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 Portugal and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Cairo.
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 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 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 Little Man to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Newcleus. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bronski Beat,
Motorama,
The Mojo Men,
Patti Smith,
Popol Vuh,
Slave,
The Selecter,
Slick Rick,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Fuzztones,
Sound Behaviour,
Panda Bear,
Crime,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Big Daddy Kane,
Television Personalities,
Con Funk Shun,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lalann,
Laurel Aitken,
the Soft Cell,
Drexciya,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Gladiators,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Colin Newman,
Los Fastidios,
Bobby Sherman,
Lee Hazlewood,
Joy Division,
Donald Byrd,
Cecil Taylor,
The Gun Club,
Negative Approach,
Shuggie Otis,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Grey Daturas,
Jawbox,
Eden Ahbez,
Kool Moe Dee,
Byron Stingily,
The Slits,
Mantronix,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Beau Brummels,
The Golliwogs,
Roxette,
Yellowson,
Dawn Penn,
Minnie Riperton,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Deepchord,
Minny Pops,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ornette Coleman,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.