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 Malawi and from Spokane.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Cairo.
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 rhodes 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 The Real Kids to the rap 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 David McCallum. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Max Romeo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
The Slits,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Brass Construction,
Harry Pussy,
Brothers Johnson,
MC5,
Aloha Tigers,
Maleditus Sound,
Jeff Mills,
Loose Ends,
Tim Buckley,
Freddie Wadling,
Matthew Bourne,
Rekid,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Underground Resistance,
Neu!,
Tomorrow,
Altered Images,
Swans,
The Buckinghams,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sonic Youth,
Ultra Naté,
Magma,
the Soft Cell,
Stiv Bators,
The Evens,
Youth Brigade,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Minnie Riperton,
June of 44,
Prince Buster,
Tres Demented,
Rod Modell,
X-101,
Section 25,
Amon Düül II,
Al Stewart,
Buzzcocks,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Arab on Radar,
Eric B and Rakim,
Susan Cadogan,
Kenny Larkin,
Morten Harket,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Monks,
Lucky Dragons,
Intrusion,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Eli Mardock,
Barry Ungar,
Angry Samoans,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Index,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Adolescents,
Gong,
Marc Almond,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.