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 Burundi and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 organ 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Smoke. All the underground hits.
All DNA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum 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?
Ossler,
Hasil Adkins,
Arthur Verocai,
The Electric Prunes,
Metal Thangz,
A Certain Ratio,
Adolescents,
Bang On A Can,
Hardrive,
Rosa Yemen,
The Smiths,
Barry Ungar,
Basic Channel,
Scan 7,
The New Christs,
Zero Boys,
The Golliwogs,
Bush Tetras,
Deepchord,
David Bowie,
Susan Cadogan,
The Blues Magoos,
Malaria!,
Kurtis Blow,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Standells,
The Doors,
Model 500,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Soft Cell,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Dirtbombs,
Fatback Band,
Kerri Chandler,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Skatalites,
Lindisfarne,
Technova,
The Vogues,
Derrick May,
Brand Nubian,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Quantec,
Roy Ayers,
Siglo XX,
Johnny Clarke,
The Cure,
Lebanon Hanover,
New York Dolls,
Slave,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Searchers,
Robert Wyatt,
Los Fastidios,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Scientists,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Hashim, Hashim, Hashim, Hashim.
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.