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 Marshall Islands and from Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Glasgow.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Vainqueur to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA 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?
K-Klass,
Zapp,
The Buckinghams,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nas,
Donald Byrd,
The Gories,
Fugazi,
Interpol,
Ponytail,
Judy Mowatt,
Sam Rivers,
The Techniques,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Saccharine Trust,
Anakelly,
The Count Five,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Dave Clark Five,
the Fania All-Stars,
La Düsseldorf,
Whodini,
Andrew Hill,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Harry Pussy,
Sonic Youth,
Bang On A Can,
Pole,
The Martian,
Silicon Teens,
Bootsy Collins,
KRS-One,
Isaac Hayes,
Heaven 17,
Faust,
Tres Demented,
Quadrant,
Royal Trux,
Peter & Gordon,
Yazoo,
Au Pairs,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Fuzztones,
Deakin,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Joe Finger,
Bobby Womack,
Bobby Sherman,
Circle Jerks,
Slave,
Black Pus,
Chrome,
Bob Dylan,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Crash Course in Science,
The Selecter,
Harpers Bizarre,
Joyce Sims,
Los Fastidios,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.