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 Antigua and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Technova to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Quadrant,
T.S.O.L.,
Mandrill,
Nick Fraelich,
Harmonia,
Sonny Sharrock,
Desert Stars,
Alison Limerick,
Janne Schatter,
London Community Gospel Choir,
X-101,
Avey Tare,
Michelle Simonal,
Reuben Wilson,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Golliwogs,
the Human League,
Patti Smith,
Agitation Free,
Gang Green,
Amazonics,
Roy Ayers,
Ken Boothe,
Roxy Music,
Aswad,
Graham Central Station,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Barrington Levy,
Index,
Rufus Thomas,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Fela Kuti,
Los Fastidios,
China Crisis,
The Remains,
Make Up,
Lou Reed,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Gun Club,
Traffic Nightmare,
Girls At Our Best!,
Erykah Badu,
Monks,
Tears for Fears,
Joy Division,
Godley & Creme,
Trumans Water,
Rhythm & Sound,
DJ Style,
Agent Orange,
Inner City,
Bluetip,
Alice Coltrane,
Mantronix,
Marmalade,
Franke,
Mary Jane Girls,
Chris Corsano,
The Gories,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.