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 Accra.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Ken Boothe to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Underground Resistance,
Jerry's Kids,
Niagra,
The J.B.'s,
Roxy Music,
Scion,
Wolf Eyes,
Pussy Galore,
Unrelated Segments,
John Holt,
Sparks,
The Wake,
John Cale,
Tres Demented,
Boredoms,
Subhumans,
Harpers Bizarre,
Interpol,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Donny Hathaway,
Moss Icon,
LL Cool J,
Kevin Saunderson,
Wire,
Fear,
Nirvana,
Crime,
Man Parrish,
the Normal,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
the Association,
David Bowie,
Basic Channel,
Boz Scaggs,
Kerri Chandler,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Crispian St. Peters,
Moebius,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Detroit Cobras,
Smog,
Crispy Ambulance,
Eli Mardock,
Eric B and Rakim,
Stiv Bators,
June Days,
Mary Jane Girls,
Slave,
Lucky Dragons,
DJ Style,
EPMD,
Swans,
Alphaville,
X-Ray Spex,
Mandrill,
Sam Rivers,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.