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 Benin and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 theremin 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 Mr. Review to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All Bizarre Inc. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bauhaus,
Lyres,
Agent Orange,
The United States of America,
The Mojo Men,
Blossom Toes,
Throbbing Gristle,
Donny Hathaway,
Matthew Bourne,
Bill Wells,
Gang Green,
Ludus,
Minny Pops,
Todd Rundgren,
Television,
The Walker Brothers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Public Enemy,
Fugazi,
Altered Images,
Simply Red,
Section 25,
Lalo Schifrin,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Silicon Teens,
KRS-One,
The Gap Band,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jesper Dahlback,
Terry Callier,
Easy Going,
Warren Ellis,
Bob Dylan,
The Gladiators,
Rites of Spring,
Kas Product,
Rakim,
Sonny Sharrock,
Infiniti,
Minutemen,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Suicide,
Sixth Finger,
Boz Scaggs,
Babytalk,
Althea and Donna,
Junior Murvin,
Reuben Wilson,
Los Fastidios,
Tropical Tobacco,
Scott Walker,
Drive Like Jehu,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
ABBA,
John Cale,
Lalann,
Television Personalities,
Black Moon,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Rapeman,
Eric Copeland,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.