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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the 808 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 the Swans to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Albert Ayler. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Model 500 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Jandek,
Cluster,
Visage,
Bill Wells,
Jeff Lynne,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cecil Taylor,
Moby Grape,
Robert Görl,
Porter Ricks,
Jacques Brel,
John Foxx,
The Last Poets,
Fluxion,
Joe Smooth,
Faraquet,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Deadbeat,
Khruangbin,
Anthony Braxton,
Marvin Gaye,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bad Manners,
Monolake,
Intrusion,
L. Decosne,
Wire,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Moleskins,
Gichy Dan,
EPMD,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Gun Club,
The Mummies,
Neu!,
The Human League,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lower 48,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sixth Finger,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Sound,
The Techniques,
Grey Daturas,
Aaron Thompson,
Scrapy,
The Real Kids,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lindisfarne,
Y Pants,
Robert Wyatt,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kool Moe Dee,
Black Sheep,
Ken Boothe,
Model 500,
Peter and Kerry,
Urselle,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.