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 Cape Verde and from Jakarta.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Moody Blues to the grime 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 Silicon Teens. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
Bobby Womack,
The Slits,
Joe Smooth,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Barbara Tucker,
Scan 7,
Neu!,
Bush Tetras,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Smiths,
Tears for Fears,
Dawn Penn,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Aloha Tigers,
The Gories,
John Coltrane,
Piero Umiliani,
Terry Callier,
Minor Threat,
Q and Not U,
The Index,
Johnny Clarke,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Deadbeat,
Spoonie Gee,
Eric Dolphy,
The Sonics,
Jeru the Damaja,
Girls At Our Best!,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lyres,
Erykah Badu,
Gang Green,
Franke,
Hot Snakes,
Urselle,
Model 500,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Delon & Dalcan,
Donny Hathaway,
Ituana,
The Leaves,
Can,
Zero Boys,
Frankie Knuckles,
Organ,
Cymande,
Arab on Radar,
Altered Images,
Bronski Beat,
The Pretty Things,
The Monochrome Set,
the Soft Cell,
Procol Harum,
These Immortal Souls,
New Order,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Amon Düül II,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.