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 Chile and from Tehran.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the güiro 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 James White and The Blacks to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All Accadde A tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Roxette,
Pantaleimon,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
the Association,
Bootsy Collins,
Bad Manners,
Wings,
Hasil Adkins,
Crime,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Golliwogs,
The Slits,
Reuben Wilson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bizarre Inc.,
Terry Callier,
Chris & Cosey,
Index,
Symarip,
Monks,
D'Angelo,
Byron Stingily,
Yellowson,
the Slits,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sam Rivers,
The Evens,
Second Layer,
Fatback Band,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bob Dylan,
Agitation Free,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Unrelated Segments,
Drexciya,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Cowsills,
Lower 48,
Kas Product,
Barry Ungar,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Barracudas,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Cramps,
The Tremeloes,
Blossom Toes,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sandy B,
Albert Ayler,
Max Romeo,
Subhumans,
Absolute Body Control,
The New Christs,
Pussy Galore,
kango's stein massive,
Bill Near,
David Bowie,
Funky Four + One,
The Invisible,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.