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 Ecuador 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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lyon.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Buckinghams to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 the Slits. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers Ubiquity record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Angry Samoans,
Procol Harum,
Los Fastidios,
Archie Shepp,
Jeff Lynne,
Deakin,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gong,
Newcleus,
Fluxion,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Tubeway Army,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Vainqueur,
The Happenings,
Stiv Bators,
Ice-T,
Bronski Beat,
Stereo Dub,
Anakelly,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Litter,
Man Parrish,
DJ Sneak,
The Grass Roots,
Niagra,
Minor Threat,
Pulsallama,
Derrick Morgan,
Whodini,
Henry Cow,
Tomorrow,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Al Stewart,
PIL,
Sonic Youth,
Idris Muhammad,
These Immortal Souls,
Gang of Four,
The Gun Club,
Hoover,
The Gories,
Dennis Brown,
Johnny Clarke,
Laurel Aitken,
Hashim,
Marshall Jefferson,
New York Dolls,
Accadde A,
Simply Red,
Pole,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Camouflage,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Alison Limerick,
the Germs,
DNA,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger.
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.