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 Austria and from Shanghai.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Halifax.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sam Rivers to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Scion. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Trojans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
Derrick Morgan,
Tommy Roe,
Peter and Kerry,
Tom Boy,
Ultimate Spinach,
Camberwell Now,
Qualms,
Bill Near,
the Human League,
Bobby Womack,
Sun Ra,
Kayak,
Harry Pussy,
Scott Walker,
The J.B.'s,
The Offenders,
Steve Hackett,
Sonny Sharrock,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Suburban Knight,
Idris Muhammad,
Niagra,
Laurel Aitken,
Bush Tetras,
John Coltrane,
The Divine Comedy,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Chris & Cosey,
Mr. Review,
The Raincoats,
Cymande,
Aural Exciters,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Frankie Knuckles,
Mo-Dettes,
Brick,
Judy Mowatt,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
These Immortal Souls,
CMW,
The Cowsills,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
10cc,
Godley & Creme,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Moss Icon,
Make Up,
Lyres,
Ronnie Foster,
Alice Coltrane,
Arab on Radar,
Jeff Mills,
Con Funk Shun,
Jawbox,
Mantronix,
PIL,
The Litter,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.