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 Nigeria and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Robert Palmer 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 Jeff Mills to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Nils Olav. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Lebanon Hanover,
Robert Wyatt,
Pulsallama,
Roger Hodgson,
Stiv Bators,
New York Dolls,
Pierre Henry,
Quando Quango,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Joy Division,
Nico,
Crooked Eye,
Accadde A,
Byron Stingily,
Circle Jerks,
Judy Mowatt,
Marmalade,
Can,
Rites of Spring,
Easy Going,
Bauhaus,
The Wake,
Warsaw,
Davy DMX,
Sun Ra,
Johnny Osbourne,
Idris Muhammad,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Junior Murvin,
The United States of America,
Kayak,
Matthew Halsall,
Susan Cadogan,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Durutti Column,
Throbbing Gristle,
JFA,
The Move,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Selecter,
Kevin Saunderson,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Misunderstood,
Von Mondo,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Divine Comedy,
Max Romeo,
David McCallum,
Banda Bassotti,
Yellowson,
Interpol,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Electric Prunes,
Niagra,
The Moody Blues,
Dark Day,
Gang of Four,
Jawbox,
Aloha Tigers,
Bootsy Collins,
EPMD,
Howard Jones,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.