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 France and from Woodstock.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Joe Smooth. All the underground hits.
All The Moody Blues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scratch Acid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bluetip,
Max Romeo,
Peter & Gordon,
Godley & Creme,
Harpers Bizarre,
A Flock of Seagulls,
48th St. Collective,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Boredoms,
Nils Olav,
The Beau Brummels,
Kool Moe Dee,
Andrew Hill,
Little Man,
Lalann,
Marvin Gaye,
Slick Rick,
The Sound,
The Tremeloes,
PIL,
James White and The Blacks,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kenny Larkin,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Howard Jones,
Davy DMX,
Sun City Girls,
Black Pus,
The Dead C,
Lucky Dragons,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Red Krayola,
Toni Rubio,
Tropical Tobacco,
Blossom Toes,
Matthew Bourne,
Colin Newman,
Blake Baxter,
Throbbing Gristle,
Hasil Adkins,
Second Layer,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Slackers,
Alice Coltrane,
Spandau Ballet,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Toasters,
Robert Wyatt,
DJ Sneak,
John Lydon,
ABBA,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
H. Thieme,
Clear Light,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Absolute Body Control,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bronski Beat,
The Leaves,
The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones.
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.