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 Serbia and from Lille.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the rap 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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arcadia record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Girls At Our Best! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Bobby Womack,
Monks,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Radiohead,
The Divine Comedy,
Mr. Review,
Blancmange,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Oblivians,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Surgeon,
Ultimate Spinach,
John Holt,
the Fania All-Stars,
James White and The Blacks,
Scan 7,
Faraquet,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Marvin Gaye,
Bootsy Collins,
World's Most,
Gang of Four,
The Walker Brothers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
David Bowie,
Faust,
Lucky Dragons,
Chris & Cosey,
Cybotron,
Monolake,
The Saints,
Symarip,
Vainqueur,
Rosa Yemen,
Zapp,
Cal Tjader,
This Heat,
Bush Tetras,
The Black Dice,
Technova,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Black Sheep,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Selecter,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Scientists,
Grandmaster Flash,
Anakelly,
Graham Central Station,
Alton Ellis,
Pantytec,
Babytalk,
T. Rex,
The Toasters,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lyres,
Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback.
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.