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 Germany and from Johannesburg.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Dead C to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shuggie Otis 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
JFA,
KRS-One,
Gabor Szabo,
Stiv Bators,
Kerri Chandler,
World's Most,
Gerry Rafferty,
Absolute Body Control,
Peter & Gordon,
The Shadows of Knight,
Moby Grape,
Funkadelic,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lou Reed,
Matthew Halsall,
Visage,
Gil Scott Heron,
Tim Buckley,
Public Enemy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Soulsonic Force,
The Seeds,
Oneida,
Dead Boys,
Lalann,
Cecil Taylor,
Inner City,
Shuggie Otis,
Spoonie Gee,
Gong,
Sex Pistols,
Shoche,
The Slits,
The Busters,
Judy Mowatt,
Aswad,
Nico,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
DNA,
Desert Stars,
Brick,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Dead C,
Magma,
B.T. Express,
The Techniques,
The Remains,
Chrome,
Scientists,
The Misunderstood,
The Vogues,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Sonics,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Cluster,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
DJ Style,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.