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 Mauritania and from Johannesburg.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the 808 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 Kas Product to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
Eddi Front,
Suicide,
The J.B.'s,
Audionom,
DJ Sneak,
The Raincoats,
John Lydon,
The Trojans,
Anthony Braxton,
Nirvana,
Joey Negro,
kango's stein massive,
The Mighty Diamonds,
John Holt,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ossler,
Oneida,
Bronski Beat,
Mission of Burma,
Gerry Rafferty,
Marcia Griffiths,
Yellowson,
Carl Craig,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
L. Decosne,
Magma,
Absolute Body Control,
Derrick May,
Black Pus,
Half Japanese,
Archie Shepp,
John Foxx,
F. McDonald,
The Zeros,
X-Ray Spex,
The Smiths,
Mandrill,
Accadde A,
Sam Rivers,
Sixth Finger,
Janne Schatter,
Thee Headcoats,
Panda Bear,
The Dead C,
Jimmy McGriff,
Spandau Ballet,
Michelle Simonal,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
David Bowie,
Altered Images,
Interpol,
Don Cherry,
Loose Ends,
Second Layer,
Slick Rick,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Godley & Creme,
Fatback Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
LL Cool J,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.