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 Samoa and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Aswad to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skaos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter and Kerry,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Barbara Tucker,
Gang Starr,
cv313,
Black Sheep,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
June Days,
Con Funk Shun,
The Fuzztones,
Al Stewart,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lakeside,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Human League,
Aaron Thompson,
Talk Talk,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Nirvana,
Dead Boys,
A Certain Ratio,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pylon,
Ultravox,
Robert Görl,
Drive Like Jehu,
Theoretical Girls,
The Vogues,
Television,
Sex Pistols,
Sun City Girls,
ABC,
The Skatalites,
The Martian,
The Move,
the Swans,
Tubeway Army,
David Axelrod,
Easy Going,
This Heat,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Curtis Mayfield,
Flipper,
The Golliwogs,
the Slits,
Qualms,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Morten Harket,
Minny Pops,
Derrick Morgan,
Motorama,
LL Cool J,
Scientists,
Pantytec,
Grey Daturas,
Black Bananas,
The Monochrome Set,
Buzzcocks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rapeman,
Monks,
B.T. Express,
Idris Muhammad,
Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja.
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.