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 Norway and from New York.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bill Near to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lafayette Afro Rock Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Gang Starr,
David Axelrod,
Dennis Brown,
8 Eyed Spy,
PIL,
The Fortunes,
Crooked Eye,
Magazine,
The Litter,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Shuggie Otis,
China Crisis,
The Five Americans,
Eve St. Jones,
Cameo,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Don Cherry,
Joey Negro,
The Vogues,
The Beau Brummels,
Toni Rubio,
Charles Mingus,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Khruangbin,
R.M.O.,
Hasil Adkins,
David McCallum,
The Tremeloes,
Loose Ends,
The Real Kids,
Quando Quango,
Bad Manners,
Sixth Finger,
Alphaville,
Dave Gahan,
Fear,
Subhumans,
Wings,
The Doobie Brothers,
Inner City,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Crash Course in Science,
Desert Stars,
Can,
Urselle,
Slick Rick,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marine Girls,
Colin Newman,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Q65,
Mo-Dettes,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The J.B.'s,
Young Marble Giants,
Hoover,
Mandrill,
X-101,
Pierre Henry,
Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja.
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.