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 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Milan.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the oboe 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the dance 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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gories record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
Con Funk Shun,
Qualms,
Crime,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Darondo,
Sex Pistols,
KRS-One,
Popol Vuh,
The Litter,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Andrew Hill,
Sexual Harrassment,
Avey Tare,
The Monks,
The Move,
Severed Heads,
The Black Dice,
Theoretical Girls,
Easy Going,
Rosa Yemen,
The Knickerbockers,
the Swans,
Sonny Sharrock,
Public Enemy,
Janne Schatter,
Eddi Front,
John Cale,
Black Flag,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
X-101,
Dark Day,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Neu!,
The Pretty Things,
Monolake,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Zero Boys,
Audionom,
Idris Muhammad,
The Saints,
Procol Harum,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lalo Schifrin,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Fugs,
Johnny Clarke,
Goldenarms,
Dead Boys,
The American Breed,
Stockholm Monsters,
Country Teasers,
The Trojans,
Byron Stingily,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Smiths,
Scan 7,
Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio.
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.