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 Slovenia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Halifax.
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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gastr Del Sol to the jazz 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 Black Sheep. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work 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 rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
Animal Collective,
Maurizio,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Gong,
Pussy Galore,
Masters at Work,
Roxy Music,
The Slackers,
Anthony Braxton,
June Days,
Man Eating Sloth,
Malaria!,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Agent Orange,
Organ,
The Golliwogs,
Cameo,
Pierre Henry,
Rekid,
Camberwell Now,
The Music Machine,
Moby Grape,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gichy Dan,
T.S.O.L.,
Sun City Girls,
The Standells,
Blossom Toes,
The Seeds,
Roy Ayers,
The Fugs,
Deepchord,
Donald Byrd,
Robert Wyatt,
Idris Muhammad,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Martian,
Vainqueur,
KRS-One,
Blancmange,
Prince Buster,
Audionom,
The Velvet Underground,
the Fania All-Stars,
Thompson Twins,
Crash Course in Science,
Can,
Johnny Clarke,
Smog,
Faust,
Gabor Szabo,
Youth Brigade,
Bill Near,
Bush Tetras,
Brick,
Mr. Review,
Whodini,
Panda Bear,
Moss Icon,
Mo-Dettes,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.