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 Brazil and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Dead C to the punk 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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gichy Dan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra,
Angry Samoans,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lungfish,
Boredoms,
The Beau Brummels,
Ten City,
Swell Maps,
Subhumans,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Eric Copeland,
Second Layer,
Dorothy Ashby,
Marshall Jefferson,
Black Flag,
Eli Mardock,
Gerry Rafferty,
Hardrive,
Steve Hackett,
Easy Going,
Arab on Radar,
The Monks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Camberwell Now,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Livin' Joy,
Monolake,
Connie Case,
The Misunderstood,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Sex Pistols,
The Leaves,
Minutemen,
U.S. Maple,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Anakelly,
Chris Corsano,
Joensuu 1685,
Kerrie Biddell,
Erykah Badu,
Eric Dolphy,
David Axelrod,
Jeff Lynne,
Albert Ayler,
The Star Department,
The Fugs,
Ituana,
Index,
Bobby Byrd,
Flipper,
Curtis Mayfield,
F. McDonald,
Blake Baxter,
Q and Not U,
Desert Stars,
CMW,
Bob Dylan,
The Evens,
Mark Hollis,
The Walker Brothers,
Lalann,
JFA,
FM Einheit,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.