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 Botswana and from Tehran.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Standells to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Cure. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
Wasted Youth,
Rufus Thomas,
Motorama,
Maleditus Sound,
Metal Thangz,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gong,
The Seeds,
10cc,
Crash Course in Science,
Niagra,
The Sonics,
Sam Rivers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Joey Negro,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bill Wells,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Severed Heads,
Bob Dylan,
Kurtis Blow,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Tres Demented,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Livin' Joy,
Funky Four + One,
The Raincoats,
Dawn Penn,
Crooked Eye,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gil Scott Heron,
Soulsonic Force,
Little Man,
Cal Tjader,
Deakin,
Circle Jerks,
Terry Callier,
Nirvana,
Todd Terry,
The Associates,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Schoolly D,
Royal Trux,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jawbox,
The Motions,
Maurizio,
Sex Pistols,
Radio Birdman,
Tomorrow,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Drive Like Jehu,
Harmonia,
Girls At Our Best!,
Colin Newman,
JFA,
Khruangbin,
Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza.
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.