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 New Zealand and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 spring reverb 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ralphi Rosario. All the underground hits.
All Hashim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Anthony Braxton,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Public Enemy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Marc Almond,
Jeff Mills,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Vogues,
Rufus Thomas,
The Doors,
Tres Demented,
Zero Boys,
Gichy Dan,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Cowsills,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Nik Kershaw,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Duran Duran,
Babytalk,
Accadde A,
Chrome,
Thompson Twins,
The Busters,
Peter and Kerry,
Jesper Dahlback,
Deepchord,
Mad Mike,
Pulsallama,
Supertramp,
Interpol,
Mars,
The Pretty Things,
The Blues Magoos,
OOIOO,
Lungfish,
T. Rex,
The Remains,
Lightning Bolt,
Gregory Isaacs,
Television,
Wings,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sparks,
Barbara Tucker,
Model 500,
Warren Ellis,
Pole,
R.M.O.,
Radiohead,
Slick Rick,
The Last Poets,
Japan,
Janne Schatter,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
James White and The Blacks,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.