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 Honduras and from Mumbai.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Woodstock.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the organ 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fuzztones,
David Bowie,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Pantytec,
Basic Channel,
JFA,
Maurizio,
Angry Samoans,
Wally Richardson,
Dead Boys,
Heaven 17,
Country Teasers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marine Girls,
Youth Brigade,
Lalo Schifrin,
Warren Ellis,
China Crisis,
Wings,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Birthday Party,
Albert Ayler,
The Wake,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Henry Cow,
Pole,
Fluxion,
Erykah Badu,
Boredoms,
Lou Reed,
R.M.O.,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Dave Clark Five,
Camouflage,
Swans,
The Selecter,
Severed Heads,
Rakim,
Janne Schatter,
Massinfluence,
Alison Limerick,
Kerrie Biddell,
Connie Case,
Archie Shepp,
Mr. Review,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sandy B,
The Smoke,
The Shadows of Knight,
The New Christs,
Roxy Music,
The Last Poets,
The Monks,
The Tremeloes,
The Skatalites,
Alphaville,
Oblivians,
The Black Dice,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.