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 Singapore and from Sao Paulo.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Sao Paulo.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the guitar 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
Nick Fraelich,
Brothers Johnson,
Lindisfarne,
Accadde A,
The Mojo Men,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gil Scott Heron,
Negative Approach,
Loose Ends,
Sällskapet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Unrelated Segments,
Yaz,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
UT,
Altered Images,
Depeche Mode,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Cramps,
Stereo Dub,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Johnny Osbourne,
Jeff Lynne,
Lyres,
Marcia Griffiths,
Freddie Wadling,
The Detroit Cobras,
a-ha,
Drive Like Jehu,
Yazoo,
Crash Course in Science,
Althea and Donna,
Pet Shop Boys,
China Crisis,
The Music Machine,
Pantaleimon,
Lucky Dragons,
48th St. Collective,
The Mighty Diamonds,
New Order,
Don Cherry,
Schoolly D,
Marine Girls,
Sound Behaviour,
Boz Scaggs,
Cameo,
The Blues Magoos,
Quadrant,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Country Teasers,
The Sonics,
Alton Ellis,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
cv313,
Dennis Brown,
Black Flag,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.