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 Armenia and from Madrid.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 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 Peter and Kerry to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All World's Most tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pulsallama,
Public Image Ltd.,
T. Rex,
The Motions,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Chris Corsano,
Gregory Isaacs,
Anthony Braxton,
Sexual Harrassment,
Piero Umiliani,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bobby Womack,
Brand Nubian,
Tubeway Army,
The Skatalites,
New Age Steppers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Radiohead,
Animal Collective,
Bobby Byrd,
Severed Heads,
The Barracudas,
the Germs,
The Buckinghams,
the Slits,
Vladislav Delay,
James White and The Blacks,
Surgeon,
The Birthday Party,
Magma,
Inner City,
Jeru the Damaja,
Laurel Aitken,
Mandrill,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Golliwogs,
Robert Görl,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Soft Machine,
Groovy Waters,
Arcadia,
The Techniques,
Charles Mingus,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tres Demented,
KRS-One,
Erasure,
Ultra Naté,
Tom Boy,
Joe Smooth,
Scan 7,
Soulsonic Force,
Bang On A Can,
Loose Ends,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Matthew Bourne,
Scion,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Main Source,
Alison Limerick,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.