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 Papua New Guinea and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 oboe 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 The Modern Lovers to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Mary Jane Girls,
Joyce Sims,
Black Pus,
Crime,
Eddi Front,
Black Flag,
The Grass Roots,
Warren Ellis,
Derrick Morgan,
Mission of Burma,
The Zeros,
Drexciya,
Monks,
Arcadia,
Anakelly,
Accadde A,
Dark Day,
The American Breed,
Avey Tare,
The Stooges,
CMW,
Heaven 17,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Organ,
Bill Near,
Royal Trux,
Man Parrish,
Ohio Players,
Ralphi Rosario,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
China Crisis,
Ultra Naté,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rufus Thomas,
Suburban Knight,
John Holt,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Walker Brothers,
Camouflage,
The Monks,
Shuggie Otis,
Andrew Hill,
Amon Düül,
Crooked Eye,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Dead Boys,
the Association,
Fat Boys,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Television Personalities,
Subhumans,
Echospace,
Rites of Spring,
Zero Boys,
the Human League,
Eric Dolphy,
Duran Duran,
Gang Starr,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Curtis Mayfield,
The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America.
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.