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 Burundi 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 Tehran and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Silicon Teens to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yusef Lateef record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marvin Gaye,
New York Dolls,
Visage,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sun City Girls,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bobby Byrd,
Johnny Clarke,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Popol Vuh,
Vainqueur,
Mary Jane Girls,
T. Rex,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Easy Going,
Television Personalities,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Slave,
Das Ding,
The Gap Band,
Severed Heads,
The Pop Group,
K-Klass,
Cecil Taylor,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Susan Cadogan,
Radio Birdman,
Ken Boothe,
Warsaw,
Dennis Brown,
Vladislav Delay,
The Busters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Grauzone,
Rakim,
Clear Light,
John Lydon,
Lakeside,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Excepter,
The Beau Brummels,
The Alarm Clocks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rufus Thomas,
Hoover,
Depeche Mode,
The New Christs,
Surgeon,
X-101,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kas Product,
Agent Orange,
Simply Red,
Fad Gadget,
Warren Ellis,
A Certain Ratio,
Lee Hazlewood,
Banda Bassotti,
Absolute Body Control,
Harpers Bizarre,
Avey Tare,
Jeff Lynne,
Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley.
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.