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 Bangladesh and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Lou Reed 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 Iggy Pop 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 The Evens. All the underground hits.
All Maurizio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dennis Brown record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lalo Schifrin,
Absolute Body Control,
Steve Hackett,
Albert Ayler,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sex Pistols,
Lower 48,
Faraquet,
Moebius,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Fania All-Stars,
Byron Stingily,
R.M.O.,
Marcia Griffiths,
Q and Not U,
Maleditus Sound,
Matthew Bourne,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Intrusion,
La Düsseldorf,
Eddi Front,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Quando Quango,
Mo-Dettes,
Amon Düül II,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Cluster,
The Young Rascals,
Tommy Roe,
June of 44,
Connie Case,
The Raincoats,
Symarip,
Eve St. Jones,
CMW,
Fugazi,
Wire,
Groovy Waters,
Simply Red,
Man Eating Sloth,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
John Foxx,
Dead Boys,
B.T. Express,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jesper Dahlback,
World's Most,
The Shadows of Knight,
Tom Boy,
Outsiders,
Eric B and Rakim,
Urselle,
Kurtis Blow,
Michelle Simonal,
T. Rex,
Pylon,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Carl Craig,
Arthur Verocai,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges.
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.