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 Seychelles and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 organ 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 Rekid to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
This Heat,
Model 500,
K-Klass,
Ken Boothe,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Malaria!,
Letta Mbulu,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Talk Talk,
Ultravox,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
ABC,
Mad Mike,
Prince Buster,
Alice Coltrane,
The Doobie Brothers,
Glenn Branca,
The Last Poets,
Josef K,
Motorama,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Iggy Pop,
Wally Richardson,
Das Ding,
James White and The Blacks,
the Germs,
Eric Copeland,
The Velvet Underground,
Dorothy Ashby,
Albert Ayler,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Blossom Toes,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Howard Jones,
Desert Stars,
Scion,
Brand Nubian,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bill Near,
Hoover,
Brick,
Kool Moe Dee,
JFA,
Radio Birdman,
Los Fastidios,
Rapeman,
Sonic Youth,
Freddie Wadling,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Juan Atkins,
The Zeros,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
These Immortal Souls,
Electric Prunes,
Surgeon,
Panda Bear,
Big Daddy Kane,
Reagan Youth,
Ponytail,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.