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 Mauritius and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 clarinet 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 Man Parrish to the disco 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 The Happenings. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
cv313,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Laurel Aitken,
The Young Rascals,
Terry Callier,
Babytalk,
Motorama,
Public Enemy,
Drexciya,
Porter Ricks,
The Dave Clark Five,
Boredoms,
Khruangbin,
The Music Machine,
Susan Cadogan,
Circle Jerks,
Spoonie Gee,
The Seeds,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Half Japanese,
Scrapy,
Absolute Body Control,
Pierre Henry,
Heaven 17,
Dave Gahan,
The Red Krayola,
The Pretty Things,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Barrington Levy,
The Slackers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Todd Rundgren,
Hoover,
Letta Mbulu,
Zapp,
Severed Heads,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Crash Course in Science,
Soul II Soul,
Mandrill,
the Bar-Kays,
Kevin Saunderson,
10cc,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Real Kids,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Glenn Branca,
Lou Christie,
Bill Wells,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Eric Copeland,
Delon & Dalcan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ossler,
PIL,
Sugar Minott,
Wasted Youth,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.