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 Austria and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 chamberlin 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 Excepter to the grunge 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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kaleidoscope 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerrie Biddell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lucky Dragons,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Gories,
Sun Ra,
Brothers Johnson,
Nils Olav,
Junior Murvin,
Quando Quango,
David McCallum,
Country Teasers,
Rufus Thomas,
Agitation Free,
Mr. Review,
Camouflage,
Ultra Naté,
Pharoah Sanders,
Wally Richardson,
Reuben Wilson,
China Crisis,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Liliput,
X-101,
10cc,
Albert Ayler,
Lou Reed,
Bauhaus,
Public Image Ltd.,
Panda Bear,
Grauzone,
Morten Harket,
CMW,
Main Source,
Todd Terry,
Magma,
Young Marble Giants,
Harmonia,
The Blackbyrds,
Cecil Taylor,
Loose Ends,
Danielle Patucci,
DNA,
Yaz,
Model 500,
Y Pants,
Bill Near,
The Victims,
The Offenders,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sex Pistols,
Tropical Tobacco,
Tubeway Army,
Max Romeo,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Monks,
Jerry's Kids,
Marvin Gaye,
Roy Ayers,
Supertramp,
Minutemen,
Ice-T,
Neu!,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.