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 Kiribati and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 Delhi and Seoul.
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 arpeggiator 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 The Grass Roots to the dance 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band. All the underground hits.
All Curtis Mayfield tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Groovy Waters 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gastr Del Sol,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
La Düsseldorf,
Q65,
Circle Jerks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sun City Girls,
Pulsallama,
Camouflage,
Bill Near,
Harmonia,
The Walker Brothers,
The Red Krayola,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Tomorrow,
Derrick May,
The Velvet Underground,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Grey Daturas,
Roxette,
The Fuzztones,
Nas,
The Blues Magoos,
Niagra,
Duran Duran,
a-ha,
Big Daddy Kane,
PIL,
The Shadows of Knight,
Radiohead,
The Slits,
The Raincoats,
Lou Reed,
Porter Ricks,
Rekid,
Barry Ungar,
Girls At Our Best!,
Colin Newman,
Au Pairs,
Bob Dylan,
Ohio Players,
Swans,
The Fire Engines,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
X-102,
Junior Murvin,
The Associates,
The Smoke,
Lungfish,
Warsaw,
Yellowson,
Nils Olav,
Brick,
Malaria!,
Archie Shepp,
The Searchers,
The Divine Comedy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Slackers,
Roy Ayers,
Babytalk,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.