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 Nigeria and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Sandy B to the grunge 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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Certain Ratio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pop Group,
Amazonics,
Funkadelic,
Dave Gahan,
Average White Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
June Days,
Magazine,
Nick Fraelich,
Mo-Dettes,
The Shadows of Knight,
Crooked Eye,
Groovy Waters,
Shuggie Otis,
JFA,
Supertramp,
Mr. Review,
John Holt,
Kevin Saunderson,
ABBA,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Q65,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Harmonia,
Neu!,
The Slackers,
The Vogues,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ice-T,
The Stooges,
Barbara Tucker,
Underground Resistance,
U.S. Maple,
The Red Krayola,
Jandek,
Stereo Dub,
Rosa Yemen,
Quando Quango,
The Star Department,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Boz Scaggs,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Dirtbombs,
Rotary Connection,
T.S.O.L.,
Joe Finger,
Jawbox,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jeru the Damaja,
Urselle,
Bill Wells,
Drive Like Jehu,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pet Shop Boys,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Standells,
Donald Byrd,
Pierre Henry,
Smog,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Gun Club,
Robert Hood,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.