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 Korea South and from Houston.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Selecter to the jazz 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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric B and Rakim,
Alton Ellis,
Gregory Isaacs,
Rakim,
The Moody Blues,
Sandy B,
Ken Boothe,
Wolf Eyes,
Leonard Cohen,
Bronski Beat,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Darondo,
Eddi Front,
Josef K,
Terry Callier,
Neil Young,
Sexual Harrassment,
Buzzcocks,
Altered Images,
Carl Craig,
The Beau Brummels,
The Saints,
The Wake,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Anakelly,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Theoretical Girls,
Schoolly D,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Crooked Eye,
Franke,
Metal Thangz,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Spoonie Gee,
Lou Reed,
James White and The Blacks,
Country Teasers,
10cc,
Das Ding,
Black Bananas,
E-Dancer,
Hot Snakes,
MC5,
Von Mondo,
Minny Pops,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Rapeman,
Bobby Byrd,
Mars,
The Blues Magoos,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Gories,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Lou Christie,
ABBA,
Infiniti,
Kenny Larkin,
Toni Rubio,
Section 25,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.