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 Macedonia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Wolf Eyes to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Be Bop Deluxe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pulsallama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Max Romeo,
Brick,
The Durutti Column,
The Cure,
One Last Wish,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Robert Görl,
Livin' Joy,
Cecil Taylor,
Au Pairs,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Association,
Connie Case,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Michelle Simonal,
Archie Shepp,
Arthur Verocai,
Bobby Byrd,
The Black Dice,
The Red Krayola,
Agent Orange,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Robert Hood,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gastr Del Sol,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jerry's Kids,
Clear Light,
The Evens,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Trojans,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Star Department,
The Mummies,
Nick Fraelich,
Mr. Review,
Suicide,
Can,
Nas,
Ornette Coleman,
Wasted Youth,
Electric Prunes,
New Order,
Rakim,
Warren Ellis,
Spoonie Gee,
The Busters,
Soft Cell,
Lungfish,
Anthony Braxton,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Toasters,
Supertramp,
Joe Smooth,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Aaron Thompson,
Stereo Dub,
Arab on Radar,
Matthew Bourne,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.