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 Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the marimba 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 Roxy Music to the dance 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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lee Hazlewood,
Suicide,
Crash Course in Science,
The Barracudas,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Idris Muhammad,
DNA,
Crime,
X-Ray Spex,
The Doobie Brothers,
Faraquet,
Aloha Tigers,
Fad Gadget,
Wally Richardson,
Minnie Riperton,
The Skatalites,
Make Up,
The Grass Roots,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Birthday Party,
Brand Nubian,
Jacob Miller,
Pere Ubu,
Flash Fearless,
Ituana,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Stiv Bators,
Laurel Aitken,
Underground Resistance,
Sparks,
Deepchord,
UT,
Colin Newman,
Khruangbin,
Sixth Finger,
Lakeside,
PIL,
Second Layer,
Shoche,
Mantronix,
The Moody Blues,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Tubeway Army,
The Mojo Men,
Rekid,
Amazonics,
the Soft Cell,
Joey Negro,
Surgeon,
the Bar-Kays,
Gil Scott Heron,
Niagra,
Echospace,
Deadbeat,
Byron Stingily,
Jimmy McGriff,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Neil Young,
Erasure,
The Trojans,
The Neon Judgement,
Delta 5,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.