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 Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Philadelphia.
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 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 Leaves to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Brick. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Zero Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Minutemen,
Josef K,
The Names,
Faust,
Little Man,
Bush Tetras,
The Moody Blues,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Porter Ricks,
The Fortunes,
Rekid,
Reuben Wilson,
Can,
Radiopuhelimet,
Chrome,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Fuzztones,
The Human League,
Qualms,
Brick,
John Coltrane,
The Cramps,
The United States of America,
Organ,
Sam Rivers,
Oblivians,
Pylon,
Kurtis Blow,
Drexciya,
Quantec,
Tommy Roe,
Ken Boothe,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Camouflage,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
8 Eyed Spy,
Stetsasonic,
Joy Division,
Lightning Bolt,
The Golliwogs,
FM Einheit,
Dead Boys,
The Doobie Brothers,
Derrick Morgan,
Anakelly,
The Real Kids,
Juan Atkins,
Boz Scaggs,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Roy Ayers,
Leonard Cohen,
Tropical Tobacco,
Trumans Water,
Swans,
The Smoke,
Frankie Knuckles,
Monolake,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
the Normal,
Kerrie Biddell,
Funky Four + One,
Q and Not U,
Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light.
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.