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 Iran and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 marimba 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 Prince Buster to the jazz 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 Robert Görl. All the underground hits.
All Danielle Patucci tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Delta 5,
Symarip,
Heaven 17,
The Doobie Brothers,
Audionom,
Black Pus,
Siglo XX,
Skriet,
Roy Ayers,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Durutti Column,
Crispian St. Peters,
Q and Not U,
The Red Krayola,
Model 500,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Offenders,
Marc Almond,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Standells,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jandek,
Tommy Roe,
Little Man,
Rufus Thomas,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ultra Naté,
Slick Rick,
Desert Stars,
Monks,
Judy Mowatt,
Letta Mbulu,
Maurizio,
Essential Logic,
Lalann,
The Sound,
Bush Tetras,
Television Personalities,
the Swans,
Pussy Galore,
Johnny Clarke,
The Last Poets,
Eden Ahbez,
Newcleus,
Lucky Dragons,
Black Moon,
MDC,
Grey Daturas,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Minny Pops,
Joyce Sims,
Arthur Verocai,
Lightning Bolt,
K-Klass,
Kerrie Biddell,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Dirtbombs,
Reuben Wilson,
Moss Icon,
H. Thieme,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.