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 Morocco and from Tokyo.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Hong Kong.
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 arpeggiator 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 Fluxion to the grunge 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 Amon Düül. All the underground hits.
All Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin 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 a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Eli Mardock,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Slits,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Nils Olav,
Barclay James Harvest,
MC5,
Procol Harum,
The Mummies,
Lou Reed,
Todd Terry,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Soft Machine,
Jawbox,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marcia Griffiths,
Steve Hackett,
Judy Mowatt,
Nick Fraelich,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Radiohead,
Barrington Levy,
Mary Jane Girls,
Quando Quango,
Scrapy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Alton Ellis,
The Blackbyrds,
Kerri Chandler,
Adolescents,
Erasure,
The Neon Judgement,
Agent Orange,
Rufus Thomas,
The Techniques,
Severed Heads,
Ultra Naté,
Bluetip,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The United States of America,
Pere Ubu,
Robert Hood,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Kurtis Blow,
Fat Boys,
Carl Craig,
Grey Daturas,
Hashim,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Alphaville,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Pagans,
Glenn Branca,
Prince Buster,
Glambeats Corp.,
Donny Hathaway,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Niagra,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.