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 Iceland and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 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 Curtis Mayfield to the grunge 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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Leonard Cohen,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
R.M.O.,
Fat Boys,
Barrington Levy,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Gories,
Archie Shepp,
Eric Dolphy,
Gichy Dan,
The Flesh Eaters,
Livin' Joy,
Absolute Body Control,
The Tremeloes,
Tears for Fears,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Matthew Halsall,
Bronski Beat,
Pere Ubu,
Saccharine Trust,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bootsy Collins,
Charles Mingus,
Robert Görl,
D'Angelo,
The Blues Magoos,
Todd Terry,
Con Funk Shun,
Warsaw,
Marmalade,
The Fire Engines,
Dorothy Ashby,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Babytalk,
The Leaves,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Pole,
UT,
Bob Dylan,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Delta 5,
X-Ray Spex,
Lungfish,
Moby Grape,
The Star Department,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Vladislav Delay,
The Slackers,
Neil Young,
Lalann,
the Germs,
Robert Hood,
Section 25,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Harpers Bizarre,
Wally Richardson,
Neu!,
Stockholm Monsters,
Skaos,
The Golliwogs,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.