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 Switzerland and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the jazz 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 Scrapy. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Whodini record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
D'Angelo,
Barrington Levy,
Pantytec,
Flipper,
Janne Schatter,
The Searchers,
Hasil Adkins,
Saccharine Trust,
Joy Division,
Suicide,
Gang of Four,
Ralphi Rosario,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
MC5,
Soulsonic Force,
Malaria!,
Sugar Minott,
Bluetip,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Hardrive,
Gang Starr,
Liliput,
Angry Samoans,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Sound,
Marmalade,
Slave,
Carl Craig,
The Martian,
Gregory Isaacs,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Zeros,
The Golliwogs,
48th St. Collective,
Warren Ellis,
Prince Buster,
The Happenings,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Shuggie Otis,
Tears for Fears,
Quando Quango,
Sex Pistols,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pulsallama,
Faust,
The Smoke,
Little Man,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Jesper Dahlback,
H. Thieme,
Derrick May,
The Fuzztones,
Niagra,
Flash Fearless,
R.M.O.,
Leonard Cohen,
Masters at Work,
Terry Callier,
David McCallum,
The Buckinghams,
the Soft Cell,
Marine Girls,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.