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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Accra and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 the Soft Cell to the disco 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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All Massinfluence tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every UT record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marvin Gaye,
Bush Tetras,
The Pop Group,
The Dirtbombs,
the Slits,
Lucky Dragons,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Traffic Nightmare,
Interpol,
Eric B and Rakim,
Popol Vuh,
Carl Craig,
Arab on Radar,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Smiths,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ossler,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Byron Stingily,
Ultra Naté,
Nirvana,
Liliput,
Babytalk,
Second Layer,
Tom Boy,
Pagans,
Soft Machine,
Bootsy Collins,
The Barracudas,
Neu!,
Joy Division,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Trojans,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Crime,
Fugazi,
The Black Dice,
Urselle,
Judy Mowatt,
Scratch Acid,
Black Bananas,
Minnie Riperton,
Con Funk Shun,
Joyce Sims,
Rites of Spring,
Gang Starr,
Eli Mardock,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Thee Headcoats,
Eden Ahbez,
David Bowie,
The Names,
Technova,
Barclay James Harvest,
Groovy Waters,
Soul II Soul,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Can,
Mandrill,
Soulsonic Force,
Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry.
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.