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 India and from Madrid.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lagos.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Rufus Thomas to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar 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?
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Anthony Braxton,
The Slackers,
Pagans,
Quando Quango,
The Misunderstood,
Harmonia,
The New Christs,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Moody Blues,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
JFA,
The Flesh Eaters,
New York Dolls,
Lyres,
Stockholm Monsters,
Talk Talk,
Freddie Wadling,
Davy DMX,
Ronan,
Rosa Yemen,
Masters at Work,
Jeru the Damaja,
Tres Demented,
T.S.O.L.,
Khruangbin,
Radiopuhelimet,
Radio Birdman,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Young Rascals,
Desert Stars,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Human League,
Barry Ungar,
The Birthday Party,
Peter & Gordon,
Lucky Dragons,
Franke,
The Remains,
Neu!,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Barclay James Harvest,
Goldenarms,
The Associates,
Letta Mbulu,
Rufus Thomas,
Joyce Sims,
Ken Boothe,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Delta 5,
Grauzone,
Gong,
The Smoke,
Piero Umiliani,
Motorama,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Marmalade,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Doors,
Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock.
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.