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 Libya and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Nik Kershaw to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Ultimate Spinach. All the underground hits.
All Heavy D & The Boyz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bizarre Inc. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Animal Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Marmalade,
the Association,
The Electric Prunes,
Gregory Isaacs,
Jawbox,
the Sonics,
Accadde A,
Das Ding,
Erykah Badu,
Pulsallama,
Eric B and Rakim,
Derrick May,
Shoche,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Colin Newman,
Drexciya,
Public Enemy,
These Immortal Souls,
Trumans Water,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Underground Resistance,
The Fugs,
Zapp,
Little Man,
Joyce Sims,
kango's stein massive,
Babytalk,
Todd Terry,
The Real Kids,
Bill Wells,
K-Klass,
Aloha Tigers,
Idris Muhammad,
Mad Mike,
Cymande,
World's Most,
Alison Limerick,
Barrington Levy,
Letta Mbulu,
Outsiders,
Moebius,
Toni Rubio,
The Shadows of Knight,
Yaz,
Sexual Harrassment,
Oneida,
Ronnie Foster,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Fire Engines,
ABBA,
John Lydon,
MC5,
Wolf Eyes,
Tim Buckley,
Gerry Rafferty,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Buckinghams,
Clear Light,
Fat Boys,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.