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 Solomon Islands and from Cairo.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Minutemen to the techno 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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Hasil Adkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
Ten City,
X-Ray Spex,
Albert Ayler,
OOIOO,
Simply Red,
U.S. Maple,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Donny Hathaway,
Barry Ungar,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Monks,
Shuggie Otis,
Surgeon,
Aswad,
Minnie Riperton,
Neu!,
Sarah Menescal,
Arab on Radar,
Funkadelic,
Eddi Front,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Scion,
Depeche Mode,
Liliput,
Moby Grape,
Matthew Halsall,
James White and The Blacks,
In Retrospect,
Franke,
David Bowie,
Moebius,
Half Japanese,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Jeru the Damaja,
Quadrant,
The Happenings,
Kevin Saunderson,
Dennis Brown,
Althea and Donna,
Underground Resistance,
Monolake,
Bad Manners,
Robert Wyatt,
The Monochrome Set,
Malaria!,
Funky Four + One,
Kurtis Blow,
Gerry Rafferty,
Los Fastidios,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Radiohead,
Wolf Eyes,
Marvin Gaye,
The Detroit Cobras,
Public Image Ltd.,
Harry Pussy,
Tomorrow,
Mr. Review,
Easy Going,
Inner City,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.