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 Belgium and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 harpsichord 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 Radio Birdman to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Second Layer. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Busters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Five Americans,
cv313,
Wire,
ABC,
Rites of Spring,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
John Foxx,
Y Pants,
Guru Guru,
David Axelrod,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Godley & Creme,
The Angels of Light,
Scion,
Eve St. Jones,
The Techniques,
Soul II Soul,
The Last Poets,
Hashim,
The Vogues,
David Bowie,
the Sonics,
Susan Cadogan,
Con Funk Shun,
Slave,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Public Enemy,
The Doobie Brothers,
Pussy Galore,
Crispy Ambulance,
T.S.O.L.,
Pharoah Sanders,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Yaz,
Bobby Byrd,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Model 500,
The Birthday Party,
This Heat,
Faraquet,
The Flesh Eaters,
Radiohead,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Tom Boy,
Marvin Gaye,
Boz Scaggs,
Sex Pistols,
Agent Orange,
Byron Stingily,
T. Rex,
B.T. Express,
Index,
Minny Pops,
Terry Callier,
Black Pus,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.