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 Argentina and from Spokane.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Junior Murvin to the grunge 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 The Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
Monks,
Monolake,
James White and The Blacks,
The Cramps,
Rapeman,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Fire Engines,
Kenny Larkin,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Blackbyrds,
Derrick Morgan,
Stetsasonic,
Jeru the Damaja,
Technova,
The Mummies,
Scott Walker,
Reuben Wilson,
The Smiths,
Slick Rick,
Blossom Toes,
JFA,
Radiopuhelimet,
Alison Limerick,
Robert Hood,
Cameo,
Rakim,
Minnie Riperton,
The Stooges,
X-102,
Symarip,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Joy Division,
Sexual Harrassment,
Half Japanese,
Fatback Band,
A Certain Ratio,
Rites of Spring,
Brand Nubian,
Theoretical Girls,
Interpol,
Harry Pussy,
Scion,
Sight & Sound,
The Beau Brummels,
Cheater Slicks,
The Vogues,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gabor Szabo,
In Retrospect,
OOIOO,
The Pretty Things,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Charles Mingus,
Grandmaster Flash,
Nick Fraelich,
Barclay James Harvest,
Motorama,
Fat Boys,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Goldenarms,
The Wake,
Ken Boothe,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.