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 Kuwait and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Michael McDonald 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 Velvet Underground to the funk 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donny Hathaway record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Smog,
Pole,
Chris & Cosey,
The Mojo Men,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Tremeloes,
Don Cherry,
The Leaves,
The Trojans,
DJ Sneak,
The Motions,
Ultravox,
The Grass Roots,
Fat Boys,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Index,
The Star Department,
Blossom Toes,
Byron Stingily,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Harry Pussy,
Bad Manners,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Reagan Youth,
Simply Red,
Das Ding,
The Knickerbockers,
In Retrospect,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Youth Brigade,
Gerry Rafferty,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Dirtbombs,
Accadde A,
Donald Byrd,
The Gladiators,
Aswad,
Flipper,
Intrusion,
Joy Division,
Royal Trux,
the Bar-Kays,
The Sound,
Man Parrish,
Fugazi,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Cluster,
Crash Course in Science,
Fear,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Gong,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Arthur Verocai,
The Velvet Underground,
One Last Wish,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Eric Dolphy,
Derrick May,
Spandau Ballet,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.