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 Peru and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Sixth Finger to the punk 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 Eden Ahbez. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
John Cale,
The Busters,
the Association,
Bobby Womack,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Index,
Toni Rubio,
Black Pus,
Mars,
Steve Hackett,
The Real Kids,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Suburban Knight,
The Monochrome Set,
Flipper,
Moss Icon,
B.T. Express,
Terry Callier,
Spoonie Gee,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ossler,
Man Parrish,
Girls At Our Best!,
Robert Wyatt,
Kurtis Blow,
Nas,
Gang Gang Dance,
Infiniti,
Judy Mowatt,
Blake Baxter,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Heaven 17,
The Martian,
Ken Boothe,
Nick Fraelich,
Crash Course in Science,
Television,
Slick Rick,
X-102,
The Shadows of Knight,
Thompson Twins,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bobby Sherman,
The Cramps,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Erykah Badu,
UT,
Althea and Donna,
Minutemen,
Sixth Finger,
New Order,
Organ,
Ice-T,
D'Angelo,
Second Layer,
Eli Mardock,
Roxy Music,
Excepter,
Lalann,
Agent Orange,
Curtis Mayfield,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.