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 Turkey and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 Mexico City and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 snare 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 Brand Nubian to the funk 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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott Heron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Second Layer,
X-Ray Spex,
Gang Starr,
Nils Olav,
the Association,
La Düsseldorf,
Radio Birdman,
The Fugs,
Don Cherry,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Rekid,
ABBA,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sun City Girls,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Velvet Underground,
Masters at Work,
Tommy Roe,
the Bar-Kays,
Camberwell Now,
Lalann,
Erykah Badu,
Joyce Sims,
Lou Christie,
The Gun Club,
The Saints,
CMW,
Derrick May,
Be Bop Deluxe,
MDC,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The New Christs,
Pulsallama,
Gerry Rafferty,
Hardrive,
Jeff Lynne,
David Axelrod,
Kurtis Blow,
Barry Ungar,
The Five Americans,
The Seeds,
Connie Case,
Groovy Waters,
The Mummies,
Al Stewart,
The Count Five,
The Associates,
Roxette,
Eli Mardock,
Black Sheep,
Rosa Yemen,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lyres,
The Happenings,
Fear,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sight & Sound,
Barclay James Harvest,
Popol Vuh,
Accadde A,
Deakin,
The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals.
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.