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 Czech Republic and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 mellotron 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 Stereo Dub to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Glambeats Corp.. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The American Breed,
Moby Grape,
Thee Headcoats,
The Raincoats,
Procol Harum,
Fugazi,
Ralphi Rosario,
Skarface,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Michelle Simonal,
Avey Tare,
ABC,
China Crisis,
Grauzone,
Eden Ahbez,
Brass Construction,
DJ Style,
Minutemen,
Mission of Burma,
Eli Mardock,
Aswad,
Derrick May,
Scion,
Neu!,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Grass Roots,
The Mojo Men,
The Techniques,
Crash Course in Science,
Nick Fraelich,
Monks,
Black Bananas,
Ohio Players,
Cecil Taylor,
Deepchord,
Country Teasers,
Quando Quango,
Trumans Water,
Japan,
Organ,
Second Layer,
Albert Ayler,
The Blackbyrds,
DJ Sneak,
Adolescents,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Boogie Down Productions,
Tomorrow,
New York Dolls,
The Searchers,
Swans,
Jandek,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sun City Girls,
The Sonics,
Jerry's Kids,
Bobby Sherman,
The Selecter,
Roy Ayers,
Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail.
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.