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 Sierra Leone and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Copenhagen.
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 synthesizer 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 Tres Demented to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Newcleus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mantronix record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kurtis Blow,
Erasure,
Angry Samoans,
Smog,
The Fugs,
Gabor Szabo,
Warsaw,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pet Shop Boys,
Letta Mbulu,
Ken Boothe,
Unwound,
Marvin Gaye,
Michelle Simonal,
Derrick May,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Clear Light,
Anakelly,
Y Pants,
The Pop Group,
Deadbeat,
This Heat,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Parry Music,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
David Bowie,
X-Ray Spex,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Misunderstood,
Kenny Larkin,
Tubeway Army,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Q65,
Kas Product,
These Immortal Souls,
Mandrill,
The Black Dice,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Boredoms,
Tears for Fears,
The Techniques,
Procol Harum,
Main Source,
Joensuu 1685,
Grey Daturas,
Althea and Donna,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Skaos,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bill Wells,
Rosa Yemen,
Don Cherry,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Scan 7,
Sällskapet,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Invisible,
Malaria!,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Adolescents,
Lou Reed,
Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids.
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.