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 Mauritania and from Copenhagen.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Shadows of Knight to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heavy D & The Boyz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Man Parrish,
Circle Jerks,
Basic Channel,
Warsaw,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Black Pus,
Wolf Eyes,
Fatback Band,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Shoche,
The Beau Brummels,
DNA,
Angry Samoans,
Mandrill,
The Pop Group,
Brand Nubian,
Marcia Griffiths,
Quando Quango,
EPMD,
Howard Jones,
Hasil Adkins,
The Tremeloes,
Deepchord,
In Retrospect,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Raincoats,
8 Eyed Spy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Urselle,
Boogie Down Productions,
Freddie Wadling,
Idris Muhammad,
Visage,
Jeff Mills,
Tears for Fears,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fela Kuti,
The Associates,
FM Einheit,
the Bar-Kays,
Camberwell Now,
Jeru the Damaja,
Accadde A,
JFA,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Trojans,
Slave,
Crooked Eye,
Alison Limerick,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Human League,
Carl Craig,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Electric Prunes,
Skriet,
Alphaville,
Arab on Radar,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.