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 Morocco and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Black Dice to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Delta 5,
Maurizio,
Warsaw,
Whodini,
T.S.O.L.,
The Electric Prunes,
Joy Division,
Avey Tare,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Standells,
Fad Gadget,
ABC,
Deakin,
T. Rex,
Siglo XX,
X-Ray Spex,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Josef K,
Fugazi,
Agent Orange,
Public Enemy,
the Slits,
L. Decosne,
Nirvana,
Albert Ayler,
Ten City,
Duran Duran,
Wire,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Velvet Underground,
Sparks,
Chris & Cosey,
The Flesh Eaters,
Grauzone,
John Holt,
Patti Smith,
Pussy Galore,
The Busters,
Echospace,
Monks,
Steve Hackett,
Rufus Thomas,
Silicon Teens,
Stereo Dub,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Desert Stars,
Wally Richardson,
The Victims,
The Dirtbombs,
Hashim,
Royal Trux,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jeru the Damaja,
X-101,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Anthony Braxton,
Motorama,
Eve St. Jones,
Animal Collective,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.