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 New Zealand and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 linndrum 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 Con Funk Shun to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mandrill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lower 48,
Black Bananas,
Los Fastidios,
Graham Central Station,
Arab on Radar,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Roy Ayers,
Pulsallama,
Ossler,
Barclay James Harvest,
Kerrie Biddell,
Black Pus,
Cheater Slicks,
David Axelrod,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Television,
Kaleidoscope,
The Selecter,
Surgeon,
Tim Buckley,
Mission of Burma,
Depeche Mode,
Ultravox,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Normal,
Stockholm Monsters,
Saccharine Trust,
The Young Rascals,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Delta 5,
Fela Kuti,
Black Moon,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Peter and Kerry,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Aaron Thompson,
B.T. Express,
Fugazi,
Maleditus Sound,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Fat Boys,
Todd Terry,
Lebanon Hanover,
Man Parrish,
Terrestrial Tones,
Chrome,
Gang of Four,
the Sonics,
Henry Cow,
Monolake,
The Cure,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Country Teasers,
Q65,
Pussy Galore,
Roxette,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Invisible,
June of 44,
Todd Rundgren,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.