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 Swaziland and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Derrick May to the crunk 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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo. All the underground hits.
All Bad Manners tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars 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 an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Organ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Symarip,
Colin Newman,
the Swans,
Neu!,
Brothers Johnson,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Star Department,
The Barracudas,
Slick Rick,
Kerri Chandler,
Tomorrow,
The Litter,
Unwound,
Bill Wells,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Cameo,
Arab on Radar,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Cecil Taylor,
Althea and Donna,
Lakeside,
Pussy Galore,
Ten City,
Lou Christie,
Drexciya,
Ralphi Rosario,
the Fania All-Stars,
Danielle Patucci,
Laurel Aitken,
Ohio Players,
Agent Orange,
Alton Ellis,
Sonic Youth,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
John Foxx,
The Vogues,
Ludus,
Shoche,
Skarface,
Dead Boys,
Easy Going,
Bobby Womack,
K-Klass,
Radiopuhelimet,
Tres Demented,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Patti Smith,
Erykah Badu,
The Happenings,
Archie Shepp,
Ultravox,
Kas Product,
Marvin Gaye,
Al Stewart,
The Slackers,
The Moody Blues,
The Searchers,
Amon Düül II,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.