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 Honduras and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Sly & The Family Stone to the grime 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 Parry Music. All the underground hits.
All Country Teasers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Black Bananas,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Mad Mike,
Joe Finger,
The Wake,
Pierre Henry,
Brick,
Interpol,
The Seeds,
Lou Reed,
Ornette Coleman,
Rakim,
The Divine Comedy,
Outsiders,
Lightning Bolt,
Gong,
The Saints,
Los Fastidios,
Parry Music,
Glenn Branca,
Sällskapet,
Mark Hollis,
Tommy Roe,
Symarip,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Camberwell Now,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Searchers,
Desert Stars,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Dead C,
The Black Dice,
Wally Richardson,
Oneida,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
This Heat,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Cure,
Technova,
Aloha Tigers,
Eden Ahbez,
The Fugs,
The Cowsills,
Simply Red,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sexual Harrassment,
Connie Case,
Nas,
Jerry's Kids,
Jacob Miller,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Clear Light,
Henry Cow,
The Mummies,
The Pretty Things,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Albert Ayler,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Nick Fraelich,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.