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 Lagos.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Rapeman to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Franke. All the underground hits.
All Fear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Seeds,
Porter Ricks,
Adolescents,
Ultimate Spinach,
L. Decosne,
Don Cherry,
Matthew Bourne,
Sister Nancy,
The Evens,
Derrick May,
Fat Boys,
Vladislav Delay,
The Index,
Man Eating Sloth,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Harmonia,
Visage,
Tears for Fears,
Sex Pistols,
Sonic Youth,
Easy Going,
Black Flag,
Youth Brigade,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Mr. Review,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Busters,
Aaron Thompson,
Donny Hathaway,
Ten City,
Bill Near,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Martian,
Guru Guru,
Pantaleimon,
Alphaville,
Eddi Front,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Gun Club,
Buzzcocks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Mandrill,
The Cramps,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Soul Sonic Force,
Television Personalities,
A Certain Ratio,
The J.B.'s,
Neu!,
Icehouse,
Neil Young,
Absolute Body Control,
Rod Modell,
Alton Ellis,
JFA,
The Dead C,
The Moody Blues,
Kerrie Biddell,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.