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 Italy and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 güiro 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 David McCallum to the techno 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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Main Source record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Nation of Ulysses,
Hoover,
Lyres,
Sarah Menescal,
The Buckinghams,
Audionom,
Malaria!,
Archie Shepp,
Suburban Knight,
Fat Boys,
London Community Gospel Choir,
MDC,
Alice Coltrane,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
L. Decosne,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Boogie Down Productions,
Crooked Eye,
Rekid,
The Gap Band,
X-101,
Bad Manners,
Supertramp,
Intrusion,
The Vogues,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sandy B,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mr. Review,
Duran Duran,
Sonny Sharrock,
Pantaleimon,
Pierre Henry,
Bush Tetras,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kerri Chandler,
The New Christs,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Fugs,
Joensuu 1685,
Franke,
Thee Headcoats,
X-Ray Spex,
Freddie Wadling,
Jacques Brel,
Chris Corsano,
Agent Orange,
The Saints,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Animal Collective,
The Slits,
The Gories,
Susan Cadogan,
Jeff Lynne,
Blancmange,
Sugar Minott,
Qualms,
Sonic Youth,
Glenn Branca,
Sexual Harrassment,
Curtis Mayfield,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.