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 Hungary and from Edmonton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 Be Bop Deluxe to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Dave Gahan. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flash Fearless 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?
Bill Near,
Eric Copeland,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Offenders,
The Five Americans,
Gerry Rafferty,
Throbbing Gristle,
Parry Music,
One Last Wish,
John Cale,
David Bowie,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Rekid,
The Birthday Party,
Drexciya,
Faust,
Skaos,
Dawn Penn,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bush Tetras,
Man Parrish,
Theoretical Girls,
Nico,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kool Moe Dee,
Crime,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Minnie Riperton,
Eric B and Rakim,
New Age Steppers,
Anthony Braxton,
Nick Fraelich,
Bobby Byrd,
Gabor Szabo,
Barrington Levy,
Neil Young,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
David Axelrod,
Shuggie Otis,
Wasted Youth,
Kurtis Blow,
Motorama,
Donny Hathaway,
Sexual Harrassment,
Slick Rick,
Shoche,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lakeside,
FM Einheit,
Joyce Sims,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sun Ra,
Darondo,
Peter and Kerry,
Outsiders,
Bill Wells,
Soulsonic Force,
The Busters,
Nils Olav,
Electric Prunes,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.