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 Saudi Arabia and from Salvador.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Fania All-Stars to the electroclash 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 The Wake. All the underground hits.
All Drive Like Jehu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fortunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
T. Rex,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Barracudas,
Ponytail,
DJ Sneak,
Zero Boys,
The Fuzztones,
Gerry Rafferty,
Judy Mowatt,
Fifty Foot Hose,
PIL,
Symarip,
X-Ray Spex,
This Heat,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bobby Sherman,
Bluetip,
Kenny Larkin,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Brothers Johnson,
Deadbeat,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
R.M.O.,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
June Days,
Model 500,
Depeche Mode,
Marshall Jefferson,
Dead Boys,
Soulsonic Force,
Crooked Eye,
Arthur Verocai,
Gong,
the Swans,
The Martian,
Stockholm Monsters,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sound Behaviour,
Radiohead,
Magma,
Tubeway Army,
June of 44,
Hot Snakes,
Animal Collective,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Excepter,
Eve St. Jones,
Fugazi,
Tommy Roe,
The Leaves,
Bill Wells,
Carl Craig,
Metal Thangz,
The Pop Group,
Quando Quango,
The Angels of Light,
Khruangbin,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Henry Cow,
Faust,
Althea and Donna,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.