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 Uganda and from Lyon.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 oboe 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 Fela Kuti to the rap 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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
cv313,
Soul Sonic Force,
T. Rex,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Stiv Bators,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Nirvana,
Althea and Donna,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Fuzztones,
Harry Pussy,
Slave,
Masters at Work,
Rakim,
Amon Düül II,
Wings,
Man Eating Sloth,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ronnie Foster,
Terrestrial Tones,
James White and The Blacks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lyres,
the Slits,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
K-Klass,
Mr. Review,
Blancmange,
Sun City Girls,
Max Romeo,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Organ,
Bob Dylan,
Monks,
Los Fastidios,
Roger Hodgson,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ultravox,
Urselle,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Audionom,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Isaac Hayes,
Television Personalities,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Motions,
Toni Rubio,
Letta Mbulu,
Barbara Tucker,
The Martian,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Kenny Larkin,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Black Sheep,
The Misunderstood,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lungfish,
Mary Jane Girls,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.