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 Nicaragua and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 arpeggiator 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 Tropical Tobacco to the rap 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 Soul Sonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Unrelated Segments tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eyeless In Gaza 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skaos,
The Electric Prunes,
Grauzone,
The Divine Comedy,
Ten City,
Darondo,
Yaz,
Porter Ricks,
Hot Snakes,
Tres Demented,
Reuben Wilson,
DJ Style,
Yazoo,
John Holt,
Johnny Osbourne,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Happenings,
Sister Nancy,
The Smoke,
Aural Exciters,
Susan Cadogan,
Reagan Youth,
K-Klass,
Black Sheep,
T.S.O.L.,
The Vogues,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fatback Band,
Fear,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Moby Grape,
Fluxion,
Jeff Lynne,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Quantec,
Albert Ayler,
X-Ray Spex,
Accadde A,
Jandek,
Warren Ellis,
The Velvet Underground,
The Kinks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Zapp,
Grey Daturas,
Boz Scaggs,
MDC,
Section 25,
Pantaleimon,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Outsiders,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Donald Byrd,
Minnie Riperton,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Johnny Clarke,
The Remains,
U.S. Maple,
Moss Icon,
Smog,
the Sonics,
Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys.
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.