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 Libya and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Hong Kong.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Tubeway Army to the rock 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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tommy Roe,
AZ,
The Move,
Make Up,
Matthew Halsall,
Oblivians,
the Association,
Glenn Branca,
Fela Kuti,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Juan Atkins,
Rhythm & Sound,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Kinks,
Sex Pistols,
World's Most,
KRS-One,
Unrelated Segments,
John Lydon,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Crime,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Jacques Brel,
Prince Buster,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pet Shop Boys,
Eric B and Rakim,
Avey Tare,
R.M.O.,
Terrestrial Tones,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Freddie Wadling,
Connie Case,
Howard Jones,
Fatback Band,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Swans,
Dead Boys,
Davy DMX,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Wally Richardson,
Mandrill,
The Happenings,
Graham Central Station,
The Mojo Men,
The Residents,
The Red Krayola,
Soul II Soul,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Litter,
Vainqueur,
Marine Girls,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Blossom Toes,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Godley & Creme,
Sight & Sound,
Saccharine Trust,
a-ha,
Lee Hazlewood,
Rapeman,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.