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 Azerbaijan and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 harpsichord 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 Durutti Column to the rock 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 Q and Not U. All the underground hits.
All The Young Rascals tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yusef Lateef record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Count Five,
D'Angelo,
Magma,
Echospace,
Ultravox,
The Slits,
Jacques Brel,
Nils Olav,
H. Thieme,
Lindisfarne,
CMW,
Black Sheep,
the Sonics,
Royal Trux,
The Invisible,
Tommy Roe,
The Index,
Drive Like Jehu,
Siglo XX,
Hashim,
Khruangbin,
Skriet,
Hasil Adkins,
Negative Approach,
James White and The Blacks,
Crooked Eye,
The Last Poets,
Cecil Taylor,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Agitation Free,
The Raincoats,
X-102,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bobby Byrd,
Cameo,
The Golliwogs,
Quando Quango,
KRS-One,
Eden Ahbez,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Alice Coltrane,
The Busters,
The Techniques,
Silicon Teens,
The New Christs,
Anakelly,
Faust,
Freddie Wadling,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Evens,
Eurythmics,
The Monks,
Fear,
Kas Product,
Sight & Sound,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Young Rascals,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.