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 Cameroon and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 güiro 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 Negative Approach to the grunge 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 The Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Joe Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gary Puckett & The Union Gap 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 guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
The Trojans,
The Slits,
Black Sheep,
Public Enemy,
Lindisfarne,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bobby Sherman,
Supertramp,
Flipper,
Bizarre Inc.,
Can,
Stereo Dub,
La Düsseldorf,
Spandau Ballet,
Tim Buckley,
Bad Manners,
Eric Dolphy,
Con Funk Shun,
Sandy B,
The Red Krayola,
Alice Coltrane,
Maleditus Sound,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Althea and Donna,
Ice-T,
Arthur Verocai,
Robert Hood,
Mantronix,
Roger Hodgson,
Funkadelic,
Ultravox,
Parry Music,
Michelle Simonal,
Albert Ayler,
The Smoke,
Infiniti,
DNA,
The Sonics,
Jeff Mills,
The Divine Comedy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
DJ Style,
Loose Ends,
Rod Modell,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Skatalites,
Minutemen,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rakim,
Nils Olav,
Neil Young,
Sällskapet,
Don Cherry,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Throbbing Gristle,
Deepchord,
Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare.
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.