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 Sierra Leone and from Hong Kong.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 JFA to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Public Enemy. All the underground hits.
All The Wake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Derrick May,
Scratch Acid,
Fatback Band,
Kerrie Biddell,
John Cale,
Scan 7,
Dennis Brown,
the Germs,
Wings,
A Certain Ratio,
Matthew Halsall,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pharoah Sanders,
Barclay James Harvest,
Boredoms,
Stereo Dub,
Alison Limerick,
Ornette Coleman,
Arab on Radar,
E-Dancer,
The Move,
Tom Boy,
The Residents,
John Lydon,
Terrestrial Tones,
Nico,
The Saints,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jeff Lynne,
Rakim,
MDC,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
John Foxx,
Soft Machine,
Electric Prunes,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
David McCallum,
Ituana,
Neil Young,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Fela Kuti,
CMW,
Black Flag,
Kayak,
Nation of Ulysses,
T.S.O.L.,
Ossler,
Nas,
Jeff Mills,
Fat Boys,
Maurizio,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Quadrant,
Popol Vuh,
Saccharine Trust,
The Victims,
The American Breed,
Wolf Eyes,
Depeche Mode,
Mary Jane Girls,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.