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 Guinea-Bissau and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 linndrum 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 The Beau Brummels to the dance 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 Moby Grape. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Swans,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Tim Buckley,
Soulsonic Force,
Donald Byrd,
Derrick May,
Black Moon,
Icehouse,
Country Teasers,
Pantaleimon,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Remains,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Aswad,
Depeche Mode,
Black Bananas,
Scan 7,
Dennis Brown,
Harry Pussy,
Derrick Morgan,
Royal Trux,
The Gun Club,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sonny Sharrock,
Electric Prunes,
D'Angelo,
Chrome,
T.S.O.L.,
The Techniques,
Gang Gang Dance,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kerrie Biddell,
Wings,
The Stooges,
Hashim,
Absolute Body Control,
Lou Christie,
The Associates,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Blues Magoos,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pussy Galore,
Marine Girls,
The Wake,
Wolf Eyes,
The Tremeloes,
Jeff Lynne,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Zero Boys,
Shoche,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Cowsills,
Cal Tjader,
Barbara Tucker,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Peter and Kerry,
Max Romeo,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.