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 Vietnam and from Taipei.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Columbus.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
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 Whodini to the rap 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 The Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
Massinfluence,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Victims,
The Residents,
Pet Shop Boys,
Fear,
Joy Division,
Cecil Taylor,
Toni Rubio,
Saccharine Trust,
Fat Boys,
Derrick May,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Sonics,
Mission of Burma,
Eurythmics,
Yellowson,
The Mojo Men,
Godley & Creme,
F. McDonald,
Skaos,
The Electric Prunes,
Steve Hackett,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Los Fastidios,
Harpers Bizarre,
Freddie Wadling,
Todd Rundgren,
Aloha Tigers,
Mr. Review,
Royal Trux,
Wings,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Crooked Eye,
Michelle Simonal,
Symarip,
the Germs,
Outsiders,
Porter Ricks,
Faust,
Howard Jones,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Black Flag,
Circle Jerks,
Bauhaus,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Agitation Free,
Roy Ayers,
Pylon,
U.S. Maple,
Letta Mbulu,
Accadde A,
The Selecter,
Index,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Neu!,
10cc,
Soul II Soul,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Intrusion,
Sam Rivers,
Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive.
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.