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 Barbados and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Stockholm.
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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 8 Eyed Spy to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liaisons Dangereuses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Star Department,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Black Dice,
Skarface,
Animal Collective,
Pole,
Q65,
Arcadia,
Bizarre Inc.,
Vladislav Delay,
Von Mondo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Slave,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Arthur Verocai,
the Swans,
CMW,
Lakeside,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Golliwogs,
Faust,
Organ,
Eddi Front,
Heaven 17,
the Normal,
Cymande,
Peter & Gordon,
The Seeds,
Second Layer,
Yellowson,
Glenn Branca,
The Martian,
The Modern Lovers,
Bootsy Collins,
Alton Ellis,
Minutemen,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Trojans,
Pylon,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bronski Beat,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Skriet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Moss Icon,
Black Bananas,
Robert Wyatt,
Flipper,
Talk Talk,
Yazoo,
the Soft Cell,
Radio Birdman,
Tears for Fears,
Fluxion,
Howard Jones,
The Saints,
The Selecter,
Absolute Body Control,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.