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 Costa Rica and from Copenhagen.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Terry Callier to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zero Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scientists,
Mars,
Lee Hazlewood,
Surgeon,
Electric Prunes,
a-ha,
The J.B.'s,
ABBA,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Negative Approach,
Mandrill,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Matthew Bourne,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
the Association,
Massinfluence,
Thee Headcoats,
Althea and Donna,
Pagans,
Nas,
Man Parrish,
The Saints,
Camouflage,
The Raincoats,
The Slits,
Desert Stars,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bronski Beat,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Blossom Toes,
Main Source,
Dual Sessions,
The Knickerbockers,
The Detroit Cobras,
H. Thieme,
Kurtis Blow,
Clear Light,
The Young Rascals,
the Normal,
Iggy Pop,
Khruangbin,
Ituana,
Minnie Riperton,
The United States of America,
Severed Heads,
Moss Icon,
Suicide,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Crispian St. Peters,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Stiv Bators,
New Age Steppers,
Duran Duran,
MC5,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Techniques,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kool Moe Dee,
Mantronix,
The Fire Engines,
Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis.
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.