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 Mauritania and from Madrid.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 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 The Last Poets to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lakeside. All the underground hits.
All Radiopuhelimet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive 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 marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bush Tetras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
Scan 7,
The Remains,
New Age Steppers,
The Blues Magoos,
Rapeman,
Max Romeo,
Cybotron,
DJ Style,
Faraquet,
Desert Stars,
Magma,
The Smoke,
Sex Pistols,
The Knickerbockers,
World's Most,
The Standells,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sonic Youth,
Tres Demented,
F. McDonald,
Man Eating Sloth,
X-101,
The Doobie Brothers,
the Germs,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Excepter,
Susan Cadogan,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Funkadelic,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Mr. Review,
Pylon,
Connie Case,
The Last Poets,
Ralphi Rosario,
New York Dolls,
Bauhaus,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
MC5,
Theoretical Girls,
X-102,
Second Layer,
Chris & Cosey,
Eden Ahbez,
The Monochrome Set,
Angry Samoans,
Aural Exciters,
Man Parrish,
Marc Almond,
Mark Hollis,
Deakin,
Yazoo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lyres,
Gang Starr,
Kas Product,
Hashim,
Fela Kuti,
Sällskapet,
Soft Machine,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques.
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.