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 Philippines and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Make Up to the jazz 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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid 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 jazz 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 an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül II,
Bizarre Inc.,
Janne Schatter,
Sun City Girls,
Country Teasers,
Young Marble Giants,
The Invisible,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Heaven 17,
Alice Coltrane,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Black Moon,
Minnie Riperton,
Fad Gadget,
Ralphi Rosario,
Depeche Mode,
Aaron Thompson,
Mo-Dettes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Cure,
Letta Mbulu,
The Saints,
Drive Like Jehu,
Goldenarms,
Rakim,
Nation of Ulysses,
DJ Sneak,
Visage,
Bang On A Can,
The Skatalites,
The Slits,
Brothers Johnson,
Minutemen,
The Modern Lovers,
Franke,
The Barracudas,
Robert Wyatt,
Magma,
Pagans,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Swell Maps,
The Evens,
Spoonie Gee,
Desert Stars,
James White and The Blacks,
Jandek,
Rosa Yemen,
Scratch Acid,
Dark Day,
the Fania All-Stars,
Marcia Griffiths,
Half Japanese,
Barclay James Harvest,
Soulsonic Force,
Vainqueur,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Rekid,
Duran Duran,
Warsaw,
Animal Collective,
Althea and Donna,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.