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 Argentina and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 rhodes 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 AZ to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cameo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
The Buckinghams,
Aaron Thompson,
The Happenings,
Moebius,
Todd Rundgren,
Piero Umiliani,
Lalann,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Scion,
Man Eating Sloth,
L. Decosne,
The Detroit Cobras,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Drexciya,
Fugazi,
Agent Orange,
Ice-T,
Bill Near,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Joy Division,
Depeche Mode,
Metal Thangz,
The Real Kids,
Barry Ungar,
Television,
Tears for Fears,
Joe Smooth,
Bobby Byrd,
Lee Hazlewood,
Black Moon,
Black Pus,
Rufus Thomas,
Lucky Dragons,
Easy Going,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Animal Collective,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Warren Ellis,
The Black Dice,
Little Man,
Andrew Hill,
The Zeros,
Vainqueur,
Porter Ricks,
Ponytail,
Avey Tare,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Cramps,
Sällskapet,
Talk Talk,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Dirtbombs,
Theoretical Girls,
Chris & Cosey,
Stiv Bators,
Los Fastidios,
Godley & Creme,
Slick Rick,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.