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 Equatorial Guinea and from Jakarta.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 oboe 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 Ronnie Foster to the jazz 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 X-101. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pierre Henry,
Animal Collective,
Y Pants,
Lou Christie,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Little Man,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Black Dice,
Bobby Byrd,
Oneida,
John Holt,
Interpol,
Country Teasers,
Brass Construction,
Jesper Dahlback,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Moody Blues,
The Slackers,
Alice Coltrane,
Ten City,
Black Sheep,
Steve Hackett,
Spandau Ballet,
Aloha Tigers,
X-Ray Spex,
The Walker Brothers,
Sam Rivers,
Ponytail,
Avey Tare,
The Modern Lovers,
Judy Mowatt,
Symarip,
Panda Bear,
Mars,
The Cowsills,
Andrew Hill,
Carl Craig,
Suburban Knight,
A Certain Ratio,
Flash Fearless,
Moss Icon,
Zero Boys,
Leonard Cohen,
OOIOO,
The Martian,
Althea and Donna,
X-102,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The American Breed,
Gang Green,
X-101,
Nik Kershaw,
Piero Umiliani,
Moebius,
Ornette Coleman,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Vladislav Delay,
Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler.
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.