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 Monaco and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Captain Beefheart 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 H. Thieme to the crunk 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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Swans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barrington Levy,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
B.T. Express,
LL Cool J,
Man Eating Sloth,
Deadbeat,
Chris Corsano,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Icehouse,
Suburban Knight,
MDC,
The Saints,
Juan Atkins,
Talk Talk,
Inner City,
Albert Ayler,
The Move,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bobby Womack,
Das Ding,
Scrapy,
The Tremeloes,
Ultra Naté,
The Sonics,
Joyce Sims,
Von Mondo,
Loose Ends,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Dennis Brown,
Roger Hodgson,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Techniques,
the Sonics,
Depeche Mode,
Robert Hood,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ice-T,
Arthur Verocai,
Cal Tjader,
The Beau Brummels,
Mission of Burma,
Ossler,
Popol Vuh,
The American Breed,
Swell Maps,
The Smoke,
Dorothy Ashby,
Altered Images,
Pantytec,
Panda Bear,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Avey Tare,
Smog,
Alton Ellis,
Massinfluence,
Pussy Galore,
Quantec,
Mandrill,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Mummies,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.