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 Swaziland and from Lagos.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Electric Prunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Germs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
Blancmange,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Cure,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Vainqueur,
Gang Green,
Andrew Hill,
Deadbeat,
Ice-T,
New York Dolls,
Swell Maps,
Malaria!,
Eric Copeland,
Graham Central Station,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
One Last Wish,
Godley & Creme,
Japan,
Drexciya,
Laurel Aitken,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Music Machine,
Joe Finger,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sonic Youth,
AZ,
The Seeds,
Cymande,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Soulsonic Force,
Janne Schatter,
Black Moon,
Bobby Sherman,
Pantaleimon,
Maurizio,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Smiths,
F. McDonald,
Slick Rick,
Avey Tare,
Lungfish,
The Index,
The Victims,
Jacques Brel,
Bauhaus,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Blake Baxter,
Bob Dylan,
Peter & Gordon,
Severed Heads,
Soul II Soul,
Los Fastidios,
Mr. Review,
Bill Near,
Derrick Morgan,
Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne.
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.