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 Bhutan and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Paris.
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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ituana to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Massinfluence tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Carl Craig record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
World's Most,
Fugazi,
Glenn Branca,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jeff Lynne,
Juan Atkins,
Amazonics,
Scratch Acid,
The Monks,
The Smoke,
OOIOO,
The Vogues,
Darondo,
Average White Band,
Index,
The Cowsills,
F. McDonald,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Derrick May,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Misunderstood,
Grauzone,
Rhythm & Sound,
Slave,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Excepter,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Roxette,
Suicide,
Maurizio,
Freddie Wadling,
Susan Cadogan,
Funkadelic,
Flash Fearless,
The Red Krayola,
Andrew Hill,
The Remains,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Talk Talk,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lakeside,
Ultra Naté,
Bob Dylan,
Yellowson,
Lalann,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Modern Lovers,
Marvin Gaye,
Yusef Lateef,
Nik Kershaw,
Severed Heads,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gil Scott Heron,
Scrapy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Grandmaster Flash,
Urselle,
Kayak,
Stiv Bators,
The Doors,
La Düsseldorf,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.