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 Papua New Guinea and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the electroclash 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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Vainqueur tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sly & The Family Stone,
Grauzone,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Bar-Kays,
The Raincoats,
Robert Hood,
Joensuu 1685,
Blossom Toes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sixth Finger,
Ornette Coleman,
The Last Poets,
Bad Manners,
Infiniti,
Tim Buckley,
Sonic Youth,
Mark Hollis,
The Martian,
Bill Near,
X-Ray Spex,
The Gun Club,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Graham Central Station,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rhythm & Sound,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Motorama,
Television Personalities,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Hoover,
Faust,
The Mummies,
Jerry's Kids,
Big Daddy Kane,
Curtis Mayfield,
New Order,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Prince Buster,
Erasure,
Franke,
Audionom,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pole,
Amon Düül,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Cowsills,
Leonard Cohen,
Chrome,
The Evens,
Brass Construction,
Gong,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Invisible,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.