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 Tonga and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba 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 Cal Tjader to the rock 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James Chance & The Contortions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro 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 Busters,
Pantytec,
kango's stein massive,
Robert Wyatt,
Camouflage,
The Wake,
Magazine,
The Vogues,
Newcleus,
Pantaleimon,
Flamin' Groovies,
Los Fastidios,
Terrestrial Tones,
John Lydon,
Minnie Riperton,
Roy Ayers,
Hot Snakes,
Ituana,
Matthew Halsall,
Grey Daturas,
Rosa Yemen,
James White and The Blacks,
Bizarre Inc.,
Eurythmics,
Wally Richardson,
The Blues Magoos,
Niagra,
Crispian St. Peters,
Livin' Joy,
Inner City,
The Index,
Arthur Verocai,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Fire Engines,
Theoretical Girls,
LL Cool J,
Faust,
The Fugs,
Barbara Tucker,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Offenders,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ohio Players,
Lou Reed,
Fifty Foot Hose,
CMW,
Derrick Morgan,
Suburban Knight,
Eden Ahbez,
This Heat,
Radio Birdman,
Spoonie Gee,
Brick,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mad Mike,
Gabor Szabo,
The Five Americans,
Tres Demented,
The Gladiators,
Minny Pops,
Gregory Isaacs,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.