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 Azerbaijan and from Milan.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Misunderstood to the techno 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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every China Crisis 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Basic Channel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalo Schifrin,
Pole,
Man Eating Sloth,
MDC,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Suburban Knight,
Bob Dylan,
Ralphi Rosario,
Massinfluence,
Juan Atkins,
Monks,
Godley & Creme,
Deakin,
Quantec,
Bauhaus,
Cal Tjader,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Fatback Band,
Model 500,
Flamin' Groovies,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sixth Finger,
Quando Quango,
June of 44,
Chrome,
Gang Starr,
Porter Ricks,
Main Source,
Eve St. Jones,
Sparks,
June Days,
The Fuzztones,
Grey Daturas,
The Gladiators,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Unrelated Segments,
The Fugs,
Echospace,
The Black Dice,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rod Modell,
Motorama,
Nas,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sugar Minott,
Brick,
Ossler,
Ken Boothe,
John Foxx,
Lungfish,
Soulsonic Force,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
James White and The Blacks,
The Wake,
Dave Gahan,
Big Daddy Kane,
David Bowie,
Sällskapet,
Warren Ellis,
Q and Not U,
The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels.
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.