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 Iraq and from Lille.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
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 The Last Poets to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Yellowson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Saccharine Trust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
ABC,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Grass Roots,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Music Machine,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The United States of America,
Smog,
Man Parrish,
Mars,
The Five Americans,
These Immortal Souls,
Brick,
T.S.O.L.,
Sister Nancy,
Arthur Verocai,
Sonny Sharrock,
DJ Style,
Nation of Ulysses,
Crooked Eye,
the Slits,
Unwound,
Gang of Four,
Surgeon,
Masters at Work,
The Moleskins,
The Velvet Underground,
The Birthday Party,
John Coltrane,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mo-Dettes,
Country Teasers,
Mission of Burma,
Prince Buster,
Swans,
Al Stewart,
Thee Headcoats,
Agent Orange,
The Red Krayola,
OOIOO,
Lucky Dragons,
The Dave Clark Five,
Newcleus,
Joey Negro,
Accadde A,
Dual Sessions,
Scan 7,
Half Japanese,
Arab on Radar,
Darondo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
the Bar-Kays,
Alison Limerick,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ohio Players,
Ultimate Spinach,
Amazonics,
The Standells,
Excepter,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Monochrome Set, The Monochrome Set, The Monochrome Set, The Monochrome Set.
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.