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 Laos and from Cairo.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba 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 Saccharine Trust to the crunk 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 Aloha Tigers. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Mills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
Barclay James Harvest,
Todd Terry,
Lungfish,
B.T. Express,
Monks,
Girls At Our Best!,
Blancmange,
The Last Poets,
Matthew Bourne,
One Last Wish,
Banda Bassotti,
Newcleus,
Accadde A,
Fluxion,
Henry Cow,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Don Cherry,
Blake Baxter,
Funky Four + One,
E-Dancer,
The Real Kids,
Ponytail,
Khruangbin,
Moss Icon,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Royal Trux,
Buzzcocks,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gang Green,
The J.B.'s,
The Toasters,
Cymande,
Aaron Thompson,
John Holt,
Q65,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Can,
Pere Ubu,
Excepter,
Soft Machine,
Country Teasers,
Marshall Jefferson,
Agent Orange,
Isaac Hayes,
The Happenings,
Godley & Creme,
Masters at Work,
Gichy Dan,
Man Parrish,
The Techniques,
the Swans,
The American Breed,
Mars,
The Monochrome Set,
Cal Tjader,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Nirvana,
The Fugs,
Janne Schatter,
The Golliwogs,
Mission of Burma,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.