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 Estonia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mexico City.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the theremin 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 Desert Stars to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unrelated Segments 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Stooges,
Hardrive,
The Toasters,
Rekid,
Eve St. Jones,
The Doobie Brothers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Interpol,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
DNA,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Popol Vuh,
Loose Ends,
Half Japanese,
Bob Dylan,
Alice Coltrane,
The Searchers,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Banda Bassotti,
The Busters,
OOIOO,
Surgeon,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Visage,
The Gladiators,
Ken Boothe,
The Trojans,
Brass Construction,
The Move,
Bootsy Collins,
Juan Atkins,
The Vogues,
the Germs,
Ten City,
The Star Department,
The New Christs,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
A Flock of Seagulls,
X-102,
Camberwell Now,
The Remains,
Kenny Larkin,
Nirvana,
Black Sheep,
FM Einheit,
The Real Kids,
Tropical Tobacco,
Wire,
Throbbing Gristle,
Dave Gahan,
Jacques Brel,
Lakeside,
Adolescents,
Little Man,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Brothers Johnson,
cv313,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.