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 Azerbaijan and from Lille.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Thee Headcoats to the rock 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 Index. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T.S.O.L. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Supertramp,
The Buckinghams,
The Martian,
The Divine Comedy,
Loose Ends,
Malaria!,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
A Certain Ratio,
Jacques Brel,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Heaven 17,
The Shadows of Knight,
Harry Pussy,
Erykah Badu,
Qualms,
Con Funk Shun,
Depeche Mode,
Simply Red,
Rapeman,
Public Image Ltd.,
The American Breed,
The Red Krayola,
Wings,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Althea and Donna,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Model 500,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
DNA,
Quando Quango,
Vainqueur,
The Litter,
Shoche,
Rotary Connection,
The Smoke,
Interpol,
The Moody Blues,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Fear,
Letta Mbulu,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Move,
Fat Boys,
Livin' Joy,
The Stooges,
Crime,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Jerry's Kids,
Faraquet,
Barbara Tucker,
Grey Daturas,
The Real Kids,
Traffic Nightmare,
Q65,
Lee Hazlewood,
Amon Düül,
The Fortunes,
Smog,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.