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 Palau and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Birthday Party to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All The Grass Roots tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a La Düsseldorf record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
H. Thieme,
Hoover,
Fat Boys,
R.M.O.,
The Offenders,
The Monks,
Negative Approach,
Cal Tjader,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Camouflage,
Wolf Eyes,
Donny Hathaway,
Khruangbin,
One Last Wish,
D'Angelo,
Underground Resistance,
Shuggie Otis,
Mars,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Clear Light,
Jimmy McGriff,
Erasure,
Connie Case,
Angry Samoans,
Nick Fraelich,
Television,
a-ha,
The Trojans,
Ultra Naté,
Pere Ubu,
Jerry's Kids,
OOIOO,
Public Enemy,
The Stooges,
Roger Hodgson,
Ornette Coleman,
Talk Talk,
Cecil Taylor,
Ken Boothe,
Minny Pops,
Stetsasonic,
Moss Icon,
The Evens,
the Normal,
The Cramps,
The Moleskins,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bizarre Inc.,
Marine Girls,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bill Wells,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Wake,
Fear,
K-Klass,
Josef K,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk.
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.