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 Eritrea and from Shanghai.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 spring reverb 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 Echo & the Bunnymen to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Kenny Larkin. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Amazonics,
Black Sheep,
Surgeon,
Adolescents,
Easy Going,
Terry Callier,
Peter & Gordon,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cal Tjader,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Arab on Radar,
Marine Girls,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Bush Tetras,
Joe Finger,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Accadde A,
Leonard Cohen,
Tommy Roe,
The Raincoats,
Max Romeo,
Alice Coltrane,
Boz Scaggs,
Gil Scott Heron,
Robert Wyatt,
FM Einheit,
ABC,
Spoonie Gee,
Fat Boys,
The Grass Roots,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Kaleidoscope,
Theoretical Girls,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
John Holt,
Warsaw,
The Pop Group,
John Lydon,
the Germs,
Rites of Spring,
Kayak,
H. Thieme,
Jawbox,
The Flesh Eaters,
Magazine,
Pierre Henry,
Sam Rivers,
the Swans,
Lucky Dragons,
Excepter,
Sun City Girls,
DNA,
New Age Steppers,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Sonics,
Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül.
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.