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 South Sudan and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 These Immortal Souls to the disco 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 Metal Thangz. All the underground hits.
All DNA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sugar Minott record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Los Fastidios,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Technova,
Stereo Dub,
Leonard Cohen,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ralphi Rosario,
John Holt,
Rod Modell,
Masters at Work,
The Martian,
The Invisible,
Liliput,
Avey Tare,
Boogie Down Productions,
Swell Maps,
Idris Muhammad,
John Coltrane,
Ornette Coleman,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lindisfarne,
The Shadows of Knight,
Popol Vuh,
Electric Prunes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Aloha Tigers,
DNA,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Saints,
Brothers Johnson,
Kayak,
David Bowie,
The Real Kids,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bang On A Can,
Bill Wells,
Anthony Braxton,
Erasure,
Black Sheep,
Gang Starr,
Harry Pussy,
The Raincoats,
Warsaw,
Maleditus Sound,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Tommy Roe,
Second Layer,
The Remains,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Visage,
Altered Images,
Graham Central Station,
Banda Bassotti,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Aural Exciters,
Laurel Aitken,
Camouflage,
Ossler,
Scratch Acid,
Neu!,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pulsallama,
The Motions,
Guru Guru,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.