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 Sudan and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 David Bowie 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud to the grime 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 Icehouse. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
Scott Walker,
Das Ding,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Fire Engines,
The Blackbyrds,
Porter Ricks,
Black Flag,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Motions,
The Cure,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Slits,
Kaleidoscope,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sister Nancy,
The Dead C,
Gil Scott Heron,
Radiopuhelimet,
the Fania All-Stars,
Trumans Water,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Gladiators,
Harmonia,
The Black Dice,
Boredoms,
Brick,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
cv313,
The Selecter,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Zero Boys,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Symarip,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tears for Fears,
Derrick Morgan,
U.S. Maple,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Saccharine Trust,
The Misunderstood,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Mars,
the Swans,
The Neon Judgement,
The Sound,
Alton Ellis,
Bobby Womack,
Gang Green,
Harry Pussy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Negative Approach,
Man Parrish,
The Fortunes,
Barbara Tucker,
The Searchers,
Fat Boys,
John Holt,
The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans.
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.