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 Tuvalu and from Spokane.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Chris & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Finger 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Aswad,
Icehouse,
Suburban Knight,
These Immortal Souls,
The Shadows of Knight,
Byron Stingily,
Camouflage,
cv313,
The Trojans,
Soft Cell,
Basic Channel,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Grass Roots,
The Slits,
Bill Near,
Interpol,
Sister Nancy,
the Germs,
The Litter,
Nirvana,
Neu!,
The Knickerbockers,
Scion,
a-ha,
Hardrive,
Fear,
Agitation Free,
Lee Hazlewood,
Roy Ayers,
Absolute Body Control,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Surgeon,
Ultra Naté,
Rufus Thomas,
The Residents,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ken Boothe,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Dave Clark Five,
Motorama,
Anthony Braxton,
the Sonics,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Echospace,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
June Days,
Sun City Girls,
The Star Department,
The Birthday Party,
Television,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Freddie Wadling,
Todd Rundgren,
Severed Heads,
Maleditus Sound,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Iggy Pop,
Cymande,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Raincoats,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Altered Images,
F. McDonald,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.