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 Iraq and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 chamberlin 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 Dorothy Ashby to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Funky Four + One. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
Junior Murvin,
Dead Boys,
Cheater Slicks,
The Shadows of Knight,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Lyres,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gang Green,
Rekid,
Traffic Nightmare,
Steve Hackett,
Robert Görl,
X-Ray Spex,
The Cowsills,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Pylon,
Bill Near,
Delon & Dalcan,
Magazine,
Soft Cell,
Oblivians,
Kerrie Biddell,
Warsaw,
Ludus,
Sex Pistols,
The Fire Engines,
Cluster,
Yazoo,
Gil Scott Heron,
Tommy Roe,
Maurizio,
The Trojans,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Busters,
Darondo,
Groovy Waters,
Jacques Brel,
Nation of Ulysses,
Dorothy Ashby,
Alice Coltrane,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
kango's stein massive,
The Skatalites,
Bang On A Can,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jeru the Damaja,
Section 25,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Joe Smooth,
Smog,
Motorama,
Malaria!,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Outsiders,
Peter and Kerry,
Aural Exciters,
Underground Resistance,
The Names,
Max Romeo,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.