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 Iran and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 harpsichord 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 Interpol to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Subhumans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Los Fastidios record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ituana,
Cymande,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Heaven 17,
Q and Not U,
Black Moon,
Ronnie Foster,
Boz Scaggs,
Cluster,
Jawbox,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Make Up,
Boogie Down Productions,
Radio Birdman,
Lucky Dragons,
Angry Samoans,
FM Einheit,
The Young Rascals,
Mandrill,
Lakeside,
Lou Reed,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Grandmaster Flash,
Depeche Mode,
Vainqueur,
The Electric Prunes,
Gil Scott Heron,
Joensuu 1685,
John Foxx,
The Litter,
Dennis Brown,
Yusef Lateef,
Cheater Slicks,
The Cramps,
48th St. Collective,
The Moody Blues,
Black Pus,
Marshall Jefferson,
Khruangbin,
Minny Pops,
Toni Rubio,
Surgeon,
Soulsonic Force,
The Monks,
Lalann,
Fela Kuti,
Popol Vuh,
The Slackers,
The Monochrome Set,
The Residents,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Roy Ayers,
Pharoah Sanders,
Man Parrish,
Cecil Taylor,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
A Certain Ratio,
Graham Central Station,
Gang Starr,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.