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 Turkmenistan and from Delhi.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 David Bowie 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 Pantaleimon to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABC 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 snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Erykah Badu,
Zapp,
The Gun Club,
Throbbing Gristle,
Spoonie Gee,
Das Ding,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scan 7,
Sugar Minott,
The Stooges,
Letta Mbulu,
Brothers Johnson,
Mantronix,
Mr. Review,
Mo-Dettes,
Neil Young,
The Real Kids,
The Smiths,
Shuggie Otis,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Talk Talk,
Iggy Pop,
Crime,
James White and The Blacks,
Nirvana,
Basic Channel,
ABBA,
Lalann,
Youth Brigade,
Tres Demented,
Circle Jerks,
Lucky Dragons,
Deakin,
Marine Girls,
Eurythmics,
Sun City Girls,
Crash Course in Science,
X-102,
OOIOO,
The Gap Band,
Darondo,
Grandmaster Flash,
Chris Corsano,
The Fortunes,
Massinfluence,
The Music Machine,
The Pretty Things,
The Doors,
The Selecter,
Nation of Ulysses,
Cymande,
The Mummies,
UT,
Hoover,
Aloha Tigers,
Stockholm Monsters,
Patti Smith,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Soft Cell,
Deadbeat,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.