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 Ireland and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Sao Paulo.
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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Bootsy Collins to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Cameo,
Traffic Nightmare,
Hasil Adkins,
Alton Ellis,
Andrew Hill,
Black Pus,
The Real Kids,
Tom Boy,
The Cramps,
Minny Pops,
FM Einheit,
the Soft Cell,
Panda Bear,
The Index,
Circle Jerks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Toni Rubio,
Barbara Tucker,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Crispian St. Peters,
Youth Brigade,
Agent Orange,
David Bowie,
Zero Boys,
Lee Hazlewood,
Stereo Dub,
Joyce Sims,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Fire Engines,
Idris Muhammad,
Malaria!,
Franke,
Lyres,
Don Cherry,
Rod Modell,
The Red Krayola,
Amon Düül II,
Angry Samoans,
Organ,
The Stooges,
Letta Mbulu,
Rosa Yemen,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Wolf Eyes,
Susan Cadogan,
Fluxion,
The Techniques,
Iggy Pop,
Maurizio,
Procol Harum,
Magazine,
Fela Kuti,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sister Nancy,
Gang of Four,
Popol Vuh,
Silicon Teens,
Aural Exciters,
Marshall Jefferson,
David McCallum,
The Grass Roots,
Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer.
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.