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 Somalia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Visage to the techno 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 Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Litter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice 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?
Sex Pistols,
UT,
Ultravox,
The Count Five,
Tom Boy,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Letta Mbulu,
Main Source,
Underground Resistance,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Dawn Penn,
Gang Green,
AZ,
The Litter,
John Coltrane,
Crispy Ambulance,
Crooked Eye,
Gong,
JFA,
the Association,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Man Parrish,
the Germs,
Nick Fraelich,
Surgeon,
The Names,
Severed Heads,
The Searchers,
Drexciya,
World's Most,
Bill Near,
A Certain Ratio,
Lindisfarne,
June of 44,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kurtis Blow,
Tropical Tobacco,
Agitation Free,
The Residents,
The Blues Magoos,
Ludus,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Music Machine,
The Angels of Light,
K-Klass,
FM Einheit,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Harmonia,
Aaron Thompson,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Happenings,
Deakin,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Cheater Slicks,
The Martian,
La Düsseldorf,
Sun City Girls,
The United States of America,
The Wake,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.