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 Cape Verde and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 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 Remains to the rap 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 Glambeats Corp.. All the underground hits.
All Pagans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sällskapet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Wells,
Bauhaus,
Kurtis Blow,
The Names,
Cymande,
Scrapy,
The Move,
Cal Tjader,
the Slits,
The Count Five,
Wally Richardson,
Girls At Our Best!,
Skriet,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lakeside,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Q and Not U,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Television,
The Gladiators,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Tres Demented,
Scientists,
Absolute Body Control,
Bob Dylan,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Funky Four + One,
Popol Vuh,
Porter Ricks,
Alison Limerick,
Spoonie Gee,
Swell Maps,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Beau Brummels,
Joyce Sims,
Mandrill,
Urselle,
The Divine Comedy,
Fugazi,
Nils Olav,
Pussy Galore,
Talk Talk,
Masters at Work,
Harry Pussy,
Judy Mowatt,
Subhumans,
Tom Boy,
Robert Wyatt,
Oneida,
Kenny Larkin,
Aural Exciters,
Aloha Tigers,
Grandmaster Flash,
Shuggie Otis,
Ornette Coleman,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Monks,
Skaos,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane.
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.