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 Paraguay and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Tehran.
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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Heavy D & The Boyz to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Youth Brigade. All the underground hits.
All Nas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minor Threat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Surgeon,
Smog,
Derrick May,
Althea and Donna,
Radiopuhelimet,
Derrick Morgan,
Kerri Chandler,
The Gap Band,
Scientists,
The Gun Club,
The Gories,
Cecil Taylor,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Jeff Mills,
Tropical Tobacco,
These Immortal Souls,
Can,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Aloha Tigers,
The Blues Magoos,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
ABBA,
Tommy Roe,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Angels of Light,
Dead Boys,
Eve St. Jones,
Prince Buster,
Cheater Slicks,
The Move,
John Foxx,
Hasil Adkins,
Anthony Braxton,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Spandau Ballet,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Nirvana,
Sister Nancy,
Minny Pops,
Matthew Bourne,
Neu!,
Letta Mbulu,
Pere Ubu,
Vainqueur,
Alice Coltrane,
The Smiths,
Marmalade,
The Golliwogs,
Radio Birdman,
Shuggie Otis,
Lou Reed,
Piero Umiliani,
Desert Stars,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Neon Judgement,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Vogues,
Model 500,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.