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 Malawi and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 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 AZ to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel. All the underground hits.
All Motorama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang on a Can All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
Country Teasers,
Blossom Toes,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gil Scott Heron,
D'Angelo,
The Knickerbockers,
Wally Richardson,
The New Christs,
The Martian,
Livin' Joy,
Boz Scaggs,
Pole,
Motorama,
Barry Ungar,
The Star Department,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Lyres,
Spandau Ballet,
Mars,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ultra Naté,
The Victims,
The Blues Magoos,
Joe Finger,
H. Thieme,
Smog,
Donny Hathaway,
Skriet,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lindisfarne,
Icehouse,
Bootsy Collins,
The Modern Lovers,
Drexciya,
Letta Mbulu,
David McCallum,
Colin Newman,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lalann,
Unrelated Segments,
Eric B and Rakim,
John Cale,
Funky Four + One,
The Mummies,
John Holt,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Black Pus,
Magma,
Minnie Riperton,
Severed Heads,
The Offenders,
Jawbox,
Main Source,
Ronnie Foster,
The Associates,
Quando Quango,
Silicon Teens,
Oblivians,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.