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 Lesotho and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 John Coltrane to the punk 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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Dennis Brown tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mantronix 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Metal Thangz,
Black Flag,
Moss Icon,
UT,
X-101,
The Golliwogs,
Jawbox,
Ponytail,
Tomorrow,
Judy Mowatt,
Colin Newman,
The Saints,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Brick,
Can,
Letta Mbulu,
T. Rex,
Anthony Braxton,
Gabor Szabo,
Lucky Dragons,
Suicide,
Rekid,
Hashim,
H. Thieme,
Popol Vuh,
John Cale,
Cymande,
Dual Sessions,
The Flesh Eaters,
Skarface,
These Immortal Souls,
Agitation Free,
Malaria!,
Iggy Pop,
The Fortunes,
Wasted Youth,
The Fire Engines,
The Gap Band,
Hoover,
Symarip,
Joe Finger,
Khruangbin,
The J.B.'s,
Anakelly,
Radio Birdman,
Rapeman,
Grey Daturas,
This Heat,
Isaac Hayes,
Alice Coltrane,
Black Pus,
Make Up,
Kenny Larkin,
Eurythmics,
Idris Muhammad,
Fifty Foot Hose,
ABC,
Godley & Creme,
Blossom Toes,
The Mojo Men,
Byron Stingily,
Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive.
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.