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 Equatorial Guinea and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a K-Klass record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
One Last Wish,
AZ,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Techniques,
Spandau Ballet,
Youth Brigade,
Bush Tetras,
The Fortunes,
Parry Music,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
the Swans,
The Last Poets,
Rufus Thomas,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Desert Stars,
Vainqueur,
Rekid,
Warsaw,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bluetip,
Banda Bassotti,
Clear Light,
Rotary Connection,
The Young Rascals,
The Shadows of Knight,
Donald Byrd,
The Gories,
Tom Boy,
The Kinks,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Fuzztones,
Bob Dylan,
Supertramp,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jeff Lynne,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Fugs,
Patti Smith,
Urselle,
Intrusion,
Minny Pops,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Litter,
Bang On A Can,
Depeche Mode,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Quantec,
Barry Ungar,
Television,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Theoretical Girls,
Bizarre Inc.,
Idris Muhammad,
Jerry's Kids,
the Fania All-Stars,
Joe Smooth,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pagans,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.