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 Senegal and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Television Personalities to the punk 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 Audionom. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Schoolly D 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Liliput,
Tres Demented,
Hasil Adkins,
Rakim,
Ronan,
PIL,
Althea and Donna,
Cybotron,
Grey Daturas,
Minnie Riperton,
Maleditus Sound,
Kerri Chandler,
U.S. Maple,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Aswad,
Sun City Girls,
The Buckinghams,
Cal Tjader,
Schoolly D,
Cameo,
Joe Finger,
Hashim,
the Fania All-Stars,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gastr Del Sol,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Silicon Teens,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Alton Ellis,
Marc Almond,
The Mojo Men,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Grass Roots,
Isaac Hayes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
the Soft Cell,
Dead Boys,
Ice-T,
Michelle Simonal,
Tubeway Army,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Music Machine,
Thee Headcoats,
Gang Starr,
Albert Ayler,
The Fugs,
Gichy Dan,
Pussy Galore,
The Mummies,
Deadbeat,
Derrick May,
Kerrie Biddell,
H. Thieme,
Man Eating Sloth,
T.S.O.L.,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Tommy Roe,
Fat Boys,
the Germs,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.