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 Haiti and from Copenhagen.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
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 Groovy Waters to the punk 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 Gang Green. All the underground hits.
All DNA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerri Chandler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Newcleus,
Graham Central Station,
Charles Mingus,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Doobie Brothers,
Rakim,
The Zeros,
Stiv Bators,
Bob Dylan,
Avey Tare,
The Fall,
Von Mondo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Cameo,
Visage,
The Litter,
Sight & Sound,
Black Bananas,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rapeman,
Cecil Taylor,
Ohio Players,
Funky Four + One,
Quadrant,
Eric Copeland,
Bronski Beat,
Michelle Simonal,
Terry Callier,
Lyres,
Skriet,
Soulsonic Force,
Mars,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Quantec,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lucky Dragons,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Count Five,
Kayak,
Intrusion,
Aural Exciters,
the Slits,
Jeru the Damaja,
Niagra,
Pussy Galore,
Circle Jerks,
The Searchers,
The Detroit Cobras,
In Retrospect,
Laurel Aitken,
Tres Demented,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Soft Cell,
David Axelrod,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cheater Slicks,
Sixth Finger,
Lee Hazlewood,
Wolf Eyes,
Jacob Miller,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.