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 Denmark and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 sitar 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 Reuben Wilson to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Subhumans,
Ituana,
R.M.O.,
Organ,
Don Cherry,
Circle Jerks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Matthew Bourne,
Khruangbin,
Kool Moe Dee,
the Slits,
The Mojo Men,
Banda Bassotti,
Shuggie Otis,
Ornette Coleman,
Suburban Knight,
New Age Steppers,
Lucky Dragons,
Idris Muhammad,
Yusef Lateef,
Charles Mingus,
Spoonie Gee,
Pulsallama,
Letta Mbulu,
Siglo XX,
Desert Stars,
Moebius,
Blake Baxter,
Essential Logic,
the Association,
The Residents,
Urselle,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ludus,
Max Romeo,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Public Enemy,
Supertramp,
Bobby Womack,
Visage,
Angry Samoans,
8 Eyed Spy,
Eddi Front,
The Smoke,
Soulsonic Force,
The Gladiators,
The Cowsills,
Warsaw,
Morten Harket,
Josef K,
Bauhaus,
Minor Threat,
Agent Orange,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
MC5,
Mission of Burma,
Roxy Music,
Lyres,
kango's stein massive,
Glambeats Corp.,
John Lydon,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.