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 Tanzania and from Tokyo.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Smoke 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 Cybotron. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eve St. Jones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Colin Newman,
Khruangbin,
Severed Heads,
Loose Ends,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Cure,
Fat Boys,
Wire,
Motorama,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Das Ding,
Big Daddy Kane,
Swell Maps,
Isaac Hayes,
Half Japanese,
Nas,
Connie Case,
John Cale,
The Velvet Underground,
Arab on Radar,
The Slackers,
The Modern Lovers,
Au Pairs,
Popol Vuh,
Carl Craig,
Mantronix,
Sun Ra,
Slave,
Marcia Griffiths,
Agitation Free,
Traffic Nightmare,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Simply Red,
Bang On A Can,
Jimmy McGriff,
Radio Birdman,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Busters,
Kerri Chandler,
Black Pus,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Minny Pops,
Mission of Burma,
Tim Buckley,
Arcadia,
Massinfluence,
The Names,
Eric Dolphy,
Malaria!,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Panda Bear,
Glenn Branca,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Joyce Sims,
X-Ray Spex,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
John Coltrane,
Pylon,
Masters at Work,
The Shadows of Knight,
Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters.
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.