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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Jakarta.
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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Slave to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Essential Logic. All the underground hits.
All Sandy B tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shoche 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 rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a One Last Wish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
B.T. Express,
Dead Boys,
The Skatalites,
Bob Dylan,
the Human League,
Fluxion,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bobby Womack,
The Dead C,
Matthew Halsall,
Urselle,
Jacob Miller,
Warsaw,
Ronan,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
John Foxx,
the Association,
The Fortunes,
Skriet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Easy Going,
Jeff Lynne,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Electric Prunes,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Eric Copeland,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Whodini,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Sound,
Pere Ubu,
Stetsasonic,
The Last Poets,
Index,
E-Dancer,
Max Romeo,
Radio Birdman,
Model 500,
A Certain Ratio,
Hoover,
Rufus Thomas,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lightning Bolt,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
ABBA,
The Cramps,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Malaria!,
Newcleus,
Archie Shepp,
KRS-One,
Patti Smith,
Warren Ellis,
48th St. Collective,
Yellowson,
Blancmange,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.