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 Oman and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Lou Christie to the rap 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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Q65 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mandrill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Josef K,
Spandau Ballet,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Modern Lovers,
The Fire Engines,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Dual Sessions,
Marine Girls,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Johnny Osbourne,
Skriet,
Siglo XX,
Brand Nubian,
the Sonics,
Aswad,
Gang of Four,
Panda Bear,
Qualms,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Jacob Miller,
Vainqueur,
World's Most,
X-101,
The Busters,
Jerry's Kids,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Mission of Burma,
Radio Birdman,
Black Moon,
Cameo,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sparks,
JFA,
John Holt,
These Immortal Souls,
Yellowson,
Adolescents,
The Young Rascals,
Quadrant,
Wally Richardson,
Shoche,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Can,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gil Scott Heron,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sex Pistols,
Carl Craig,
Isaac Hayes,
Pole,
the Soft Cell,
Zapp,
Sister Nancy,
Matthew Halsall,
Altered Images,
Graham Central Station,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.