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 Pakistan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the güiro 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 Pere Ubu to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All Ronan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Ornette Coleman,
Infiniti,
Black Pus,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Soft Cell,
Masters at Work,
Hardrive,
DJ Sneak,
Popol Vuh,
Big Daddy Kane,
K-Klass,
The Techniques,
Ossler,
Blancmange,
The American Breed,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Shadows of Knight,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Nils Olav,
Pet Shop Boys,
Aloha Tigers,
Johnny Osbourne,
the Swans,
New Order,
Minny Pops,
Glenn Branca,
Tears for Fears,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Harry Pussy,
Electric Prunes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pole,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Human League,
Sonny Sharrock,
T. Rex,
cv313,
the Bar-Kays,
OOIOO,
The Golliwogs,
Chris & Cosey,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Animal Collective,
Suburban Knight,
The Cramps,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Eric Copeland,
Mission of Burma,
Ten City,
In Retrospect,
F. McDonald,
Dead Boys,
the Normal,
Lalann,
Fad Gadget,
The Gun Club,
Pussy Galore,
Neu!,
Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead.
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.