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 Guinea-Bissau and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 808 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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Mantronix. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
Minutemen,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Blake Baxter,
Bob Dylan,
Parry Music,
John Holt,
Susan Cadogan,
Nils Olav,
Tropical Tobacco,
Fat Boys,
The Offenders,
The Last Poets,
The Smoke,
Reagan Youth,
The Sonics,
The Associates,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Gories,
Sex Pistols,
Slave,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sun Ra,
Mary Jane Girls,
Black Flag,
Smog,
Sarah Menescal,
Average White Band,
The Vogues,
Kerri Chandler,
Cal Tjader,
Echospace,
Guru Guru,
The Human League,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Urselle,
Derrick May,
The Divine Comedy,
Zero Boys,
Dark Day,
Joey Negro,
David Bowie,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bush Tetras,
Alphaville,
The Count Five,
R.M.O.,
Johnny Osbourne,
Tommy Roe,
Ultra Naté,
Iggy Pop,
Traffic Nightmare,
PIL,
48th St. Collective,
The Beau Brummels,
Amazonics,
Young Marble Giants,
Procol Harum,
Jacob Miller,
Bootsy Collins,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.