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 Paraguay and from Stockholm.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Salvador.
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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Joey Negro to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ludus,
James White and The Blacks,
Skarface,
X-101,
Fugazi,
Tim Buckley,
New Order,
the Swans,
Traffic Nightmare,
Minnie Riperton,
The Sound,
The Knickerbockers,
The American Breed,
Dead Boys,
The Leaves,
Blake Baxter,
Mr. Review,
A Certain Ratio,
Skaos,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Litter,
The Names,
Theoretical Girls,
Pantaleimon,
Crispy Ambulance,
Frankie Knuckles,
Oblivians,
Gang Green,
Delta 5,
Henry Cow,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jeff Mills,
Godley & Creme,
Crooked Eye,
Wasted Youth,
The Seeds,
Section 25,
Brass Construction,
T. Rex,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Pop Group,
the Sonics,
Bobby Womack,
Au Pairs,
Drexciya,
H. Thieme,
The Moleskins,
Jerry's Kids,
Monolake,
Fela Kuti,
PIL,
Jacques Brel,
Urselle,
Marine Girls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Monks,
Silicon Teens,
Donald Byrd,
Nirvana,
Excepter,
Drive Like Jehu,
These Immortal Souls,
Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control.
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.