Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Libya and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The J.B.'s to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by the Swans. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jawbox record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ludus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Techniques,
the Sonics,
Nick Fraelich,
Avey Tare,
Soul II Soul,
Gichy Dan,
Saccharine Trust,
Prince Buster,
Freddie Wadling,
Radio Birdman,
The Fugs,
John Coltrane,
Lou Christie,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Erykah Badu,
The Black Dice,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Parry Music,
The Alarm Clocks,
Smog,
Gong,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Dead Boys,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Altered Images,
The Stooges,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Motions,
Average White Band,
Tommy Roe,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Black Moon,
Hoover,
Hot Snakes,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lungfish,
Trumans Water,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Doors,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Malaria!,
Vainqueur,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Symarip,
These Immortal Souls,
Angry Samoans,
E-Dancer,
X-102,
Delon & Dalcan,
Half Japanese,
Brand Nubian,
Aswad,
Soft Machine,
Archie Shepp,
Sight & Sound,
L. Decosne,
The Cowsills,
Eurythmics,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Monks,
Au Pairs,
Minutemen,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Toni Rubio,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.