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 Liberia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Ossler to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joyce Sims 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Josef K,
Ultravox,
Jimmy McGriff,
Prince Buster,
Newcleus,
Alton Ellis,
The Misunderstood,
Faraquet,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Reagan Youth,
Boz Scaggs,
Joyce Sims,
Magazine,
Soft Cell,
JFA,
Brand Nubian,
Scrapy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
June of 44,
Das Ding,
Patti Smith,
Tim Buckley,
Brick,
Kurtis Blow,
DJ Sneak,
Sparks,
Moebius,
Sarah Menescal,
Ultra Naté,
Fad Gadget,
Second Layer,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Ten City,
Guru Guru,
Grey Daturas,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Curtis Mayfield,
Severed Heads,
Reuben Wilson,
Rufus Thomas,
Todd Terry,
Glenn Branca,
Pierre Henry,
Y Pants,
Bush Tetras,
Skaos,
Mission of Burma,
Matthew Halsall,
the Sonics,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Judy Mowatt,
Skarface,
Grandmaster Flash,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Deepchord,
The Red Krayola,
Swell Maps,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Modern Lovers,
Stereo Dub,
Arab on Radar,
The Divine Comedy,
Panda Bear,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.