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 Namibia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Rekid to the grunge 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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Ohio Players,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Scratch Acid,
The Slits,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Boz Scaggs,
Joy Division,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Doors,
Piero Umiliani,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Harmonia,
Bobbi Humphrey,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Funkadelic,
CMW,
Brothers Johnson,
Eli Mardock,
Zapp,
Gregory Isaacs,
ABBA,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bush Tetras,
Hardrive,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Average White Band,
Glambeats Corp.,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cymande,
Intrusion,
Urselle,
The Skatalites,
Crooked Eye,
The Gories,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
One Last Wish,
DJ Sneak,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Faust,
Section 25,
Soulsonic Force,
Dave Gahan,
Fear,
Lalann,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
T. Rex,
Spoonie Gee,
Sex Pistols,
Rhythm & Sound,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
John Coltrane,
Chrome,
Maurizio,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Neon Judgement,
Anakelly,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Nik Kershaw,
Fat Boys,
Ludus,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.