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 South Sudan and from Cairo.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tokyo.
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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim 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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Idris Muhammad,
Desert Stars,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Judy Mowatt,
Andrew Hill,
Laurel Aitken,
The Beau Brummels,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Anakelly,
Harry Pussy,
The Index,
Terrestrial Tones,
Depeche Mode,
Y Pants,
Colin Newman,
The Gories,
Deepchord,
Cheater Slicks,
Severed Heads,
H. Thieme,
Bootsy Collins,
Sparks,
The Sound,
Ituana,
Harmonia,
Maurizio,
Nick Fraelich,
The Star Department,
Tears for Fears,
Piero Umiliani,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Stiv Bators,
Iggy Pop,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bush Tetras,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Audionom,
Sun City Girls,
Reagan Youth,
Theoretical Girls,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Carl Craig,
Vladislav Delay,
Moebius,
Minny Pops,
Skriet,
Reuben Wilson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lower 48,
Roxette,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Offenders,
Technova,
Bronski Beat,
Scientists,
Whodini,
Dave Gahan,
The Invisible,
Lyres,
The Golliwogs,
Soulsonic Force,
Babytalk,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.