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 Indonesia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 organ 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick May record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy Collins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Vainqueur,
Visage,
Suicide,
Warsaw,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Symarip,
June Days,
Brand Nubian,
John Coltrane,
Supertramp,
Jeff Lynne,
Wolf Eyes,
The J.B.'s,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Neu!,
Rites of Spring,
Index,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Raincoats,
Porter Ricks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Scott Walker,
Bootsy Collins,
Tubeway Army,
Boogie Down Productions,
Harmonia,
Eurythmics,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bronski Beat,
Cybotron,
Jerry's Kids,
Black Bananas,
The Fire Engines,
Bauhaus,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Davy DMX,
Siglo XX,
Wings,
The Residents,
Moss Icon,
Theoretical Girls,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Toasters,
Janne Schatter,
Fluxion,
The Cramps,
Leonard Cohen,
Drexciya,
PIL,
Saccharine Trust,
Charles Mingus,
X-Ray Spex,
Magma,
L. Decosne,
Dawn Penn,
Tomorrow,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.