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 Djibouti and from Mexico City.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 808 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 Max Romeo to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Kurtis Blow. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Bar-Kays record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
Electric Prunes,
The Seeds,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Tom Boy,
the Human League,
Underground Resistance,
T.S.O.L.,
Eden Ahbez,
KRS-One,
Depeche Mode,
FM Einheit,
Sister Nancy,
Joensuu 1685,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Masters at Work,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Flash Fearless,
Sexual Harrassment,
Animal Collective,
Mission of Burma,
Derrick Morgan,
AZ,
Jeru the Damaja,
8 Eyed Spy,
Fat Boys,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
John Holt,
The Vogues,
Jacques Brel,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ronnie Foster,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Stetsasonic,
Carl Craig,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Stiv Bators,
Grauzone,
Harry Pussy,
Mantronix,
Outsiders,
Slick Rick,
The Divine Comedy,
The Walker Brothers,
Kenny Larkin,
Graham Central Station,
Theoretical Girls,
Scott Walker,
Kerri Chandler,
Swans,
The Detroit Cobras,
Khruangbin,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Young Rascals,
Motorama,
Todd Rundgren,
The Smoke,
The Dead C,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.