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 United States and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 marimba 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 The Skatalites to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blake Baxter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
Erykah Badu,
Tommy Roe,
Blancmange,
Warsaw,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Malaria!,
Popol Vuh,
Kayak,
Shoche,
Radiohead,
Supertramp,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Quadrant,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rekid,
L. Decosne,
Agitation Free,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Pere Ubu,
Anakelly,
Jeff Lynne,
Joe Finger,
Lee Hazlewood,
Johnny Clarke,
The Cure,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mr. Review,
Sonic Youth,
Wasted Youth,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Fall,
Soul Sonic Force,
Harry Pussy,
Bill Wells,
Chris & Cosey,
The Blues Magoos,
Maleditus Sound,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Seeds,
The Black Dice,
Ten City,
Hot Snakes,
Michelle Simonal,
The Electric Prunes,
Depeche Mode,
the Fania All-Stars,
Delon & Dalcan,
Blake Baxter,
Wally Richardson,
Howard Jones,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Real Kids,
Sällskapet,
Dennis Brown,
Pagans,
Sparks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Brass Construction,
kango's stein massive,
Make Up,
The Skatalites,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.