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 Antigua and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 güiro 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 Animal Collective to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Offenders. All the underground hits.
All In Retrospect tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Stooges record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Young Marble Giants,
Liliput,
Lucky Dragons,
Fort Wilson Riot,
MC5,
Ponytail,
Lindisfarne,
Wolf Eyes,
Spoonie Gee,
Blossom Toes,
Los Fastidios,
Terrestrial Tones,
John Holt,
Matthew Bourne,
Can,
Soft Cell,
Whodini,
Pylon,
Jeff Lynne,
the Human League,
Rekid,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Johnny Clarke,
Soft Machine,
D'Angelo,
the Slits,
Maurizio,
Rotary Connection,
This Heat,
June of 44,
The Sisters of Mercy,
In Retrospect,
DJ Style,
CMW,
Fad Gadget,
The Barracudas,
The Victims,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Quando Quango,
The Alarm Clocks,
John Lydon,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Buckinghams,
U.S. Maple,
Gil Scott Heron,
Barbara Tucker,
Amazonics,
Yazoo,
Carl Craig,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sun Ra,
Arcadia,
Banda Bassotti,
Fatback Band,
Royal Trux,
Metal Thangz,
Thompson Twins,
Yusef Lateef,
Swell Maps,
Electric Prunes,
Harry Pussy,
Agitation Free,
Khruangbin,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.