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 Ireland and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Clarke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Detroit Cobras,
Minny Pops,
K-Klass,
Groovy Waters,
The Mojo Men,
Kenny Larkin,
Harry Pussy,
Dawn Penn,
Lakeside,
The Trojans,
The Moody Blues,
Tommy Roe,
Carl Craig,
Laurel Aitken,
Don Cherry,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rites of Spring,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Buckinghams,
The Happenings,
F. McDonald,
Tres Demented,
Pylon,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Leaves,
Aswad,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Slackers,
Grauzone,
Soft Cell,
Crispian St. Peters,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tropical Tobacco,
Buzzcocks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pet Shop Boys,
X-Ray Spex,
Marine Girls,
The Birthday Party,
Tim Buckley,
Sam Rivers,
Half Japanese,
The Monochrome Set,
The Modern Lovers,
Eden Ahbez,
Von Mondo,
Black Flag,
Michelle Simonal,
the Slits,
Yusef Lateef,
Moss Icon,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
B.T. Express,
Jeff Mills,
The Zeros,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Can,
Barry Ungar,
Electric Prunes,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))).
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.