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 Lesotho and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Zapp to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Josef K. All the underground hits.
All Janne Schatter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Con Funk Shun,
the Human League,
Scrapy,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Mark Hollis,
Magma,
The Zeros,
Suicide,
Popol Vuh,
Bronski Beat,
Bad Manners,
Warren Ellis,
June of 44,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
John Holt,
the Swans,
Robert Görl,
Juan Atkins,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Minny Pops,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
New Order,
Angry Samoans,
Country Joe & The Fish,
One Last Wish,
The Shadows of Knight,
Guru Guru,
Faust,
Soul Sonic Force,
Gong,
Sexual Harrassment,
Minutemen,
T. Rex,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Marmalade,
Dual Sessions,
Massinfluence,
Motorama,
Basic Channel,
DJ Style,
Excepter,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Barrington Levy,
Yellowson,
Suburban Knight,
Crispian St. Peters,
Tom Boy,
The Blackbyrds,
Ituana,
Ultimate Spinach,
Colin Newman,
John Coltrane,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Young Rascals,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Drive Like Jehu,
New York Dolls,
Das Ding,
Mr. Review,
Sandy B,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.