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 Mexico and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 Lille and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Mandrill to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Count Five. All the underground hits.
All X-101 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Young Marble Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
the Bar-Kays,
Hardrive,
Marshall Jefferson,
Wasted Youth,
Radio Birdman,
Loose Ends,
Talk Talk,
John Holt,
8 Eyed Spy,
Amon Düül,
The Monks,
The Gun Club,
a-ha,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rakim,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Piero Umiliani,
The Count Five,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Fatback Band,
Fad Gadget,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Eric Copeland,
Drexciya,
The Blackbyrds,
Wolf Eyes,
Neil Young,
John Cale,
Aloha Tigers,
ABC,
Suburban Knight,
Gong,
Minor Threat,
Girls At Our Best!,
Mad Mike,
Scientists,
Stereo Dub,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Los Fastidios,
Warren Ellis,
Angry Samoans,
The Divine Comedy,
Pagans,
The Invisible,
Aural Exciters,
Swell Maps,
Charles Mingus,
Deadbeat,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Joensuu 1685,
the Human League,
Bang On A Can,
Jerry's Kids,
Carl Craig,
Tommy Roe,
Television,
Moby Grape,
The Associates,
Malaria!,
Hoover,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Groovy Waters,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.