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 Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Donald Fagen 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 Derrick May to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bizarre Inc. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flipper record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Swans,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ultimate Spinach,
The American Breed,
Gregory Isaacs,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ponytail,
Funkadelic,
Barrington Levy,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jimmy McGriff,
Skarface,
Scrapy,
Yellowson,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
R.M.O.,
Depeche Mode,
Piero Umiliani,
June Days,
Cheater Slicks,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Star Department,
The Raincoats,
Arcadia,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
FM Einheit,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Soft Cell,
Babytalk,
Slave,
Basic Channel,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
JFA,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tears for Fears,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Fear,
The Detroit Cobras,
MC5,
John Coltrane,
Easy Going,
The Fuzztones,
Kurtis Blow,
Soulsonic Force,
a-ha,
Bang On A Can,
Lyres,
Isaac Hayes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Hot Snakes,
Suicide,
Groovy Waters,
Steve Hackett,
Crash Course in Science,
Laurel Aitken,
Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance.
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.