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 Switzerland and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Cabaret Voltaire to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Intrusion. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Lynne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
Althea and Donna,
Swell Maps,
Deadbeat,
Sugar Minott,
The Remains,
Dark Day,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Grauzone,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Eve St. Jones,
Pantaleimon,
Pylon,
Gang Starr,
Bob Dylan,
Skriet,
Crooked Eye,
Skaos,
ABBA,
Robert Hood,
David Axelrod,
Joyce Sims,
Lalo Schifrin,
This Heat,
Amazonics,
Youth Brigade,
Roger Hodgson,
Pere Ubu,
Kerrie Biddell,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Last Poets,
Adolescents,
Eli Mardock,
Black Bananas,
Graham Central Station,
Soulsonic Force,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Durutti Column,
Mr. Review,
Kaleidoscope,
Dorothy Ashby,
Delta 5,
The Residents,
Yellowson,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lightning Bolt,
Sun City Girls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Saccharine Trust,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rufus Thomas,
Wire,
Model 500,
The Mojo Men,
Half Japanese,
Ituana,
Scratch Acid,
Erykah Badu,
Lee Hazlewood,
David Bowie,
The Knickerbockers,
Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow.
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.