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 Azerbaijan and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 The Detroit Cobras to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All Justin Hinds & The Dominoes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Mission of Burma,
U.S. Maple,
Toni Rubio,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jesper Dahlback,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
K-Klass,
The Blues Magoos,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
David McCallum,
Loose Ends,
Slave,
H. Thieme,
Pet Shop Boys,
Rekid,
Saccharine Trust,
China Crisis,
Excepter,
Lower 48,
Unwound,
Tommy Roe,
Glenn Branca,
Lee Hazlewood,
Wally Richardson,
Tom Boy,
Kayak,
Cybotron,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bootsy Collins,
Eli Mardock,
Ken Boothe,
Metal Thangz,
The Happenings,
Mad Mike,
Black Moon,
Parry Music,
KRS-One,
Amon Düül II,
The American Breed,
The Dave Clark Five,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Residents,
Sparks,
Swell Maps,
The Doors,
Icehouse,
The Slits,
Glambeats Corp.,
Soft Cell,
In Retrospect,
Aural Exciters,
Public Enemy,
John Coltrane,
Monks,
Erasure,
Andrew Hill,
Scientists,
Procol Harum,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.