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 Lyon.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 linndrum 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 B.T. Express to the rap 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 X-102. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terror Squad Feat. Camron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
The Dirtbombs,
Byron Stingily,
The Music Machine,
Reuben Wilson,
Cheater Slicks,
KRS-One,
Pantaleimon,
Soulsonic Force,
Newcleus,
The Angels of Light,
David Axelrod,
The Move,
The Birthday Party,
Kool Moe Dee,
the Association,
T.S.O.L.,
Brick,
Carl Craig,
China Crisis,
Harmonia,
Oneida,
Royal Trux,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Radio Birdman,
Depeche Mode,
Ronnie Foster,
June of 44,
The Last Poets,
Rapeman,
Wings,
The Velvet Underground,
Robert Görl,
Jeff Mills,
Don Cherry,
Arthur Verocai,
Young Marble Giants,
Kerrie Biddell,
Rakim,
Audionom,
The Slits,
Quadrant,
X-102,
Dark Day,
Kaleidoscope,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
R.M.O.,
Deadbeat,
Scion,
The Gories,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Echospace,
Lindisfarne,
Vainqueur,
Jerry's Kids,
Angry Samoans,
the Swans,
The Fall,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
the Bar-Kays,
The Modern Lovers,
Average White Band,
The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs.
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.