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 Zimbabwe and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 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 The Cowsills to the punk 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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Adolescents,
The Electric Prunes,
Bob Dylan,
Pussy Galore,
The Moody Blues,
Blake Baxter,
Infiniti,
Tommy Roe,
Marvin Gaye,
Fat Boys,
Bootsy Collins,
Fugazi,
Dennis Brown,
These Immortal Souls,
Stetsasonic,
the Swans,
Sam Rivers,
Japan,
Amazonics,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Yaz,
Los Fastidios,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Vogues,
Loose Ends,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Dorothy Ashby,
Maurizio,
Von Mondo,
Audionom,
Big Daddy Kane,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Residents,
Clear Light,
AZ,
Severed Heads,
Con Funk Shun,
Scion,
Black Moon,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gregory Isaacs,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eric Dolphy,
The Blues Magoos,
Outsiders,
Deepchord,
Dual Sessions,
Popol Vuh,
China Crisis,
The Mojo Men,
Ornette Coleman,
Cecil Taylor,
Jimmy McGriff,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Jacob Miller,
T.S.O.L.,
Susan Cadogan,
John Lydon,
Section 25,
Oneida,
Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive.
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.