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 Slovenia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 oboe 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 Cybotron to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott Heron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
Crime,
Dennis Brown,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Urselle,
Jesper Dahlback,
Rites of Spring,
the Germs,
The Leaves,
Bad Manners,
Man Eating Sloth,
John Cale,
Second Layer,
Alphaville,
Todd Rundgren,
Nick Fraelich,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Moleskins,
The Five Americans,
Kaleidoscope,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Alarm Clocks,
T.S.O.L.,
Darondo,
Marcia Griffiths,
Minny Pops,
Kevin Saunderson,
Slave,
Blake Baxter,
Youth Brigade,
Lebanon Hanover,
Rekid,
Michelle Simonal,
Rapeman,
Porter Ricks,
Wolf Eyes,
DJ Sneak,
Masters at Work,
Ultra Naté,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Fat Boys,
Mr. Review,
Jeff Lynne,
Black Moon,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Pussy Galore,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Skatalites,
Chrome,
Anakelly,
Hasil Adkins,
The Modern Lovers,
the Normal,
Frankie Knuckles,
Accadde A,
Con Funk Shun,
Wasted Youth,
Donny Hathaway,
Wings,
Drexciya,
Letta Mbulu,
Robert Hood,
Infiniti,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.