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 Ivory Coast and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 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 Aswad to the rap 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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lakeside record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
Q and Not U,
The Red Krayola,
Circle Jerks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Fad Gadget,
Japan,
Crooked Eye,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Slackers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Black Flag,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Marmalade,
Gichy Dan,
Girls At Our Best!,
Shuggie Otis,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Electric Prunes,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
This Heat,
The Cowsills,
Harmonia,
Soft Cell,
DJ Sneak,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Slits,
Chrome,
The Modern Lovers,
Charles Mingus,
The Monks,
Bob Dylan,
AZ,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Gang Starr,
Yaz,
The Fortunes,
Wasted Youth,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Motions,
Tubeway Army,
Franke,
Icehouse,
kango's stein massive,
OOIOO,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Man Parrish,
Don Cherry,
Albert Ayler,
Negative Approach,
Duran Duran,
Eden Ahbez,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Schoolly D,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.