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 Uzbekistan and from Philadelphia.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 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 Archie Shepp to the disco 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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Minny Pops tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mo-Dettes 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 clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Animal Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
The Fire Engines,
Talk Talk,
The Motions,
Yusef Lateef,
Stetsasonic,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Boredoms,
Altered Images,
David Bowie,
The Last Poets,
Henry Cow,
The Dirtbombs,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Grey Daturas,
Arthur Verocai,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Monochrome Set,
MDC,
The United States of America,
Bronski Beat,
Tomorrow,
Charles Mingus,
Ultravox,
Ken Boothe,
The Move,
Rapeman,
Half Japanese,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
New York Dolls,
The Shadows of Knight,
Supertramp,
The Evens,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sex Pistols,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Peter and Kerry,
The Pretty Things,
Bad Manners,
Absolute Body Control,
Y Pants,
Joyce Sims,
Lalann,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Magazine,
Lee Hazlewood,
FM Einheit,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Model 500,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Sonics,
Joe Finger,
Terry Callier,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tommy Roe,
Man Parrish,
Crispian St. Peters,
Donny Hathaway,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Yazoo,
Scion,
Circle Jerks,
Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance.
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.