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 Qatar and from Houston.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Joey Negro. All the underground hits.
All Aaron Thompson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glambeats Corp. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erykah Badu,
Neil Young,
The American Breed,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Echospace,
Lindisfarne,
Lou Christie,
Mars,
Cameo,
The Martian,
Japan,
Chris Corsano,
Dead Boys,
Slave,
Blossom Toes,
Gichy Dan,
Pharoah Sanders,
Roxy Music,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bootsy Collins,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Cluster,
Nico,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Dave Clark Five,
Grandmaster Flash,
Marcia Griffiths,
Black Bananas,
Trumans Water,
Chrome,
Fear,
Eddi Front,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Don Cherry,
Eyeless In Gaza,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Moleskins,
The Walker Brothers,
Kerri Chandler,
Bauhaus,
The Mummies,
Erasure,
MC5,
The Smoke,
Morten Harket,
Ronnie Foster,
Rosa Yemen,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
8 Eyed Spy,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Vogues,
Public Enemy,
Camouflage,
The Move,
the Soft Cell,
The Angels of Light,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bizarre Inc.,
Alice Coltrane,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.