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 Liechtenstein and from Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 synthesizer 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 Traffic Nightmare to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Saints. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neu!,
Trumans Water,
Wolf Eyes,
Wally Richardson,
Eurythmics,
John Lydon,
EPMD,
The Pop Group,
The Martian,
Lou Reed,
H. Thieme,
The Tremeloes,
Liliput,
KRS-One,
Davy DMX,
Yellowson,
Eve St. Jones,
Khruangbin,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Monolake,
Glenn Branca,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Camouflage,
Gabor Szabo,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gerry Rafferty,
Matthew Bourne,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Thee Headcoats,
Grandmaster Flash,
Scan 7,
June Days,
Dead Boys,
Excepter,
Amon Düül,
Soft Machine,
Gichy Dan,
The Kinks,
Electric Prunes,
Zero Boys,
Porter Ricks,
MDC,
Skarface,
Cheater Slicks,
Nils Olav,
Drexciya,
L. Decosne,
Faraquet,
The Modern Lovers,
DNA,
The Moleskins,
Alphaville,
The Fire Engines,
Hardrive,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Searchers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Suicide,
Fatback Band,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.