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 Namibia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Freddie Wadling to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ten City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
L. Decosne,
T.S.O.L.,
This Heat,
Nation of Ulysses,
Scientists,
Cheater Slicks,
Jerry's Kids,
R.M.O.,
Cal Tjader,
Eve St. Jones,
Joyce Sims,
Buzzcocks,
Tears for Fears,
Khruangbin,
Rufus Thomas,
Throbbing Gristle,
Tres Demented,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rakim,
The Modern Lovers,
Girls At Our Best!,
Jawbox,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sarah Menescal,
Faust,
June of 44,
Flipper,
the Swans,
Stiv Bators,
Peter and Kerry,
The Busters,
The Golliwogs,
Oblivians,
Scrapy,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Quando Quango,
Bobby Womack,
Hasil Adkins,
Rotary Connection,
The Misunderstood,
Fad Gadget,
Bauhaus,
The Dead C,
the Sonics,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Trojans,
Anakelly,
Infiniti,
Radiohead,
Glenn Branca,
Ronan,
Eric Dolphy,
Banda Bassotti,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Tommy Roe,
The Fuzztones,
Gong,
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.