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 Solomon Islands and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Michael McDonald 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 Terrestrial Tones to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All Unwound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department 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?
The Durutti Column,
Matthew Halsall,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Neil Young,
Intrusion,
Radio Birdman,
Deepchord,
The Black Dice,
The Fugs,
Bush Tetras,
L. Decosne,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Index,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Stetsasonic,
The Beau Brummels,
Johnny Clarke,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bang On A Can,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Silicon Teens,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Carl Craig,
MDC,
Aaron Thompson,
Andrew Hill,
Radiohead,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Tubeway Army,
The Moody Blues,
Barbara Tucker,
Donald Byrd,
Wolf Eyes,
Juan Atkins,
The Electric Prunes,
Anthony Braxton,
Mandrill,
Bizarre Inc.,
Mars,
Oneida,
Y Pants,
Alice Coltrane,
Suicide,
The Walker Brothers,
Public Image Ltd.,
Television Personalities,
Laurel Aitken,
Leonard Cohen,
Underground Resistance,
Television,
Agitation Free,
The Motions,
Can,
Symarip,
Lou Christie,
The Fall,
Supertramp,
Pulsallama,
Sun City Girls,
The Fire Engines,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Henry Cow,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.