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 Thailand and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sandy B to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Mills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Soft Machine,
Circle Jerks,
Aswad,
Can,
Funky Four + One,
Boogie Down Productions,
Colin Newman,
June Days,
Byron Stingily,
Susan Cadogan,
Mo-Dettes,
The Associates,
The Velvet Underground,
Quantec,
Angry Samoans,
Malaria!,
Aural Exciters,
The Electric Prunes,
Barry Ungar,
Siglo XX,
Cabaret Voltaire,
a-ha,
Radio Birdman,
The Mojo Men,
Dead Boys,
Hasil Adkins,
The Buckinghams,
Boz Scaggs,
Half Japanese,
John Holt,
The Standells,
Heaven 17,
Terrestrial Tones,
Masters at Work,
The Leaves,
The Names,
the Soft Cell,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Techniques,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Das Ding,
Avey Tare,
Spoonie Gee,
Outsiders,
Lee Hazlewood,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Moleskins,
Cecil Taylor,
Peter & Gordon,
Wasted Youth,
Davy DMX,
KRS-One,
Alphaville,
Gil Scott Heron,
La Düsseldorf,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Bang On A Can,
kango's stein massive,
Tres Demented,
Gang Starr,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.