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 Montenegro and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 spring reverb 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk to the techno 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 Rosa Yemen. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
Mars,
Dual Sessions,
Audionom,
kango's stein massive,
Cal Tjader,
Jandek,
F. McDonald,
Lyres,
The New Christs,
Soulsonic Force,
Laurel Aitken,
Desert Stars,
Rosa Yemen,
Easy Going,
Harmonia,
Mantronix,
Barbara Tucker,
Flamin' Groovies,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Echospace,
Terrestrial Tones,
Fatback Band,
Spandau Ballet,
Curtis Mayfield,
Barclay James Harvest,
Basic Channel,
Quadrant,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Connie Case,
Fela Kuti,
Quando Quango,
Johnny Osbourne,
Alice Coltrane,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Black Moon,
Kurtis Blow,
Essential Logic,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ituana,
The Flesh Eaters,
Marine Girls,
Warsaw,
Carl Craig,
Bill Near,
Wasted Youth,
Hoover,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Liliput,
Sixth Finger,
Erykah Badu,
Godley & Creme,
Mr. Review,
Roxy Music,
Man Parrish,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Last Poets,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Zapp,
Severed Heads,
Lindisfarne,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.