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 Colombia and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lagos.
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 clarinet 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 Eric Copeland to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
John Coltrane,
Desert Stars,
Franke,
Lucky Dragons,
Bronski Beat,
Terry Callier,
La Düsseldorf,
Patti Smith,
Pere Ubu,
the Swans,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Neu!,
Gang of Four,
The Sound,
The Stooges,
T. Rex,
Gil Scott Heron,
X-102,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rotary Connection,
Unwound,
The Divine Comedy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Nico,
Lightning Bolt,
The Velvet Underground,
Eddi Front,
The Music Machine,
Letta Mbulu,
Junior Murvin,
June Days,
Maurizio,
Grey Daturas,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
X-101,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Scan 7,
DJ Sneak,
Brothers Johnson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Trojans,
Kurtis Blow,
The Misunderstood,
Jawbox,
Rosa Yemen,
Mr. Review,
Bill Near,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Brass Construction,
John Foxx,
Rufus Thomas,
Alison Limerick,
Lower 48,
Frankie Knuckles,
Howard Jones,
The Dave Clark Five,
Black Pus,
Bootsy Collins,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.