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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Copenhagen.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the sitar 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 Skaos to the dance 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald 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 a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glambeats Corp. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flipper,
Yaz,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Bill Near,
Godley & Creme,
Janne Schatter,
Funkadelic,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Remains,
Liliput,
Camouflage,
Ronan,
Barry Ungar,
Gang Starr,
Pulsallama,
Soul Sonic Force,
Altered Images,
Cal Tjader,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bad Manners,
Mantronix,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gang Green,
Morten Harket,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
John Holt,
Ohio Players,
The Monks,
Fear,
Radio Birdman,
8 Eyed Spy,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Stooges,
Buzzcocks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Procol Harum,
Spandau Ballet,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Slits,
Lakeside,
Pere Ubu,
Black Bananas,
Rapeman,
Todd Rundgren,
Faraquet,
The Saints,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sister Nancy,
Matthew Bourne,
Skriet,
The Monochrome Set,
Magazine,
Lucky Dragons,
Blake Baxter,
David Bowie,
Chris Corsano,
Stereo Dub,
Hasil Adkins,
Bobby Sherman,
Public Enemy,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.