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 Senegal and from New York.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Suicide to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Pierre Henry. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Con Funk Shun record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Bill Wells,
Drexciya,
Crooked Eye,
Vladislav Delay,
The Golliwogs,
Minny Pops,
Maleditus Sound,
Frankie Knuckles,
DJ Sneak,
ABBA,
Robert Görl,
Make Up,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Doors,
Sight & Sound,
Stockholm Monsters,
Au Pairs,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fugazi,
the Normal,
Massinfluence,
R.M.O.,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Minutemen,
Don Cherry,
Pet Shop Boys,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Flamin' Groovies,
Negative Approach,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Count Five,
The Misunderstood,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jeff Lynne,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lou Reed,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Josef K,
The Leaves,
The Monochrome Set,
Animal Collective,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Slits,
Adolescents,
The Fortunes,
Magma,
The Black Dice,
The American Breed,
James White and The Blacks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lou Christie,
Gong,
Jacques Brel,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Yusef Lateef,
Second Layer,
The Vogues,
Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes.
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.