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 Lesotho and from Accra.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Cosmic Jokers to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All Monolake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delta 5 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Guru Guru,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Radio Birdman,
Iggy Pop,
Archie Shepp,
Andrew Hill,
Adolescents,
Bobby Byrd,
Zero Boys,
Arcadia,
Aloha Tigers,
Pantaleimon,
Gichy Dan,
Roy Ayers,
John Holt,
Icehouse,
Juan Atkins,
Hot Snakes,
Neil Young,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Porter Ricks,
John Coltrane,
The Raincoats,
Duran Duran,
Saccharine Trust,
Swell Maps,
Soulsonic Force,
Donny Hathaway,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Doors,
Sonny Sharrock,
Y Pants,
Kerri Chandler,
Faust,
The Seeds,
Fat Boys,
Moebius,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Birthday Party,
L. Decosne,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Avey Tare,
Magma,
The Motions,
Glambeats Corp.,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Music Machine,
Maleditus Sound,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Vainqueur,
X-Ray Spex,
Essential Logic,
Matthew Halsall,
The Buckinghams,
Ultra Naté,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Walker Brothers,
These Immortal Souls,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sandy B,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.