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 Bolivia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 Tehran and Winnipeg.
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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Girls At Our Best! to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Amazonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
The Selecter,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Subhumans,
The Alarm Clocks,
Black Moon,
Juan Atkins,
The Standells,
Quadrant,
The Offenders,
Sixth Finger,
Scratch Acid,
Rod Modell,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Ultra Naté,
The Monochrome Set,
F. McDonald,
Stiv Bators,
Archie Shepp,
Althea and Donna,
The Remains,
Boz Scaggs,
MC5,
Wolf Eyes,
the Association,
The Gories,
Pulsallama,
Ohio Players,
Johnny Osbourne,
Hasil Adkins,
Soft Cell,
Kerri Chandler,
Bobby Womack,
Skriet,
The Blues Magoos,
Joy Division,
Gil Scott Heron,
Heaven 17,
Lindisfarne,
The Misunderstood,
Scrapy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jeff Lynne,
Organ,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Second Layer,
Anthony Braxton,
John Holt,
John Foxx,
Talk Talk,
The Flesh Eaters,
Con Funk Shun,
H. Thieme,
Joyce Sims,
The Detroit Cobras,
Wire,
Loose Ends,
Donald Byrd,
Pagans,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.