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 Angola and from Taipei.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the oboe 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 Jacques Brel to the rap 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 Dark Day. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Danielle Patucci record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Gang Green,
Jesper Dahlback,
Urselle,
Malaria!,
Harmonia,
John Foxx,
Kurtis Blow,
Ken Boothe,
Soft Cell,
Warsaw,
the Sonics,
Monolake,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Los Fastidios,
Jimmy McGriff,
Fluxion,
Freddie Wadling,
Sight & Sound,
Banda Bassotti,
Alice Coltrane,
Lightning Bolt,
The Red Krayola,
U.S. Maple,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Selecter,
Eurythmics,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sparks,
The Fugs,
Pharoah Sanders,
Soul II Soul,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
David McCallum,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Alphaville,
Quantec,
Supertramp,
Rod Modell,
Thompson Twins,
Con Funk Shun,
World's Most,
Television Personalities,
Royal Trux,
The Gun Club,
The Names,
Carl Craig,
The Residents,
The Shadows of Knight,
One Last Wish,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Youth Brigade,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mr. Review,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Grass Roots,
Black Sheep,
X-102,
Intrusion,
Animal Collective,
The Index,
Fugazi,
Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red.
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.