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 Ghana and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 Salvador and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Neon Judgement to the punk 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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s 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 Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Television Personalities,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sight & Sound,
Al Stewart,
The Busters,
Tim Buckley,
Soul Sonic Force,
Camberwell Now,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Organ,
Kevin Saunderson,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Scott Walker,
Smog,
a-ha,
Spandau Ballet,
Laurel Aitken,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bobby Womack,
Archie Shepp,
Marmalade,
Amon Düül II,
The Detroit Cobras,
Los Fastidios,
The Star Department,
Max Romeo,
The Moleskins,
Cecil Taylor,
KRS-One,
The Names,
Youth Brigade,
Sparks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Hardrive,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Masters at Work,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Dual Sessions,
Public Image Ltd.,
La Düsseldorf,
The Doors,
Sexual Harrassment,
Make Up,
the Sonics,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
Boz Scaggs,
Wire,
Minnie Riperton,
The Gap Band,
Barrington Levy,
Amon Düül,
Letta Mbulu,
Ultra Naté,
New Order,
Ken Boothe,
Surgeon,
Lindisfarne,
Sly & The Family Stone,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.