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 Burkina and from Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 harpsichord 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 Malaria! to the punk 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 Agitation Free. All the underground hits.
All Aswad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Christie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jawbox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
Scott Walker,
Eric B and Rakim,
Letta Mbulu,
Sällskapet,
Quantec,
Brothers Johnson,
the Soft Cell,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Morten Harket,
Bang On A Can,
Nirvana,
Duran Duran,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Patti Smith,
June Days,
Ituana,
Cal Tjader,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Maleditus Sound,
June of 44,
Donny Hathaway,
The Mojo Men,
Janne Schatter,
Mary Jane Girls,
Subhumans,
FM Einheit,
Connie Case,
Magma,
Rufus Thomas,
Technova,
Chris Corsano,
EPMD,
Joe Smooth,
The New Christs,
Aural Exciters,
The Moody Blues,
Bluetip,
Black Bananas,
Ice-T,
These Immortal Souls,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Dirtbombs,
The Fugs,
The Busters,
The Names,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Josef K,
The Cramps,
Gang of Four,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Slick Rick,
B.T. Express,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
48th St. Collective,
Saccharine Trust,
Ponytail,
Radiopuhelimet,
Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe.
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.