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 Bahamas and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Dead C to the grime 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soulsonic Force record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Soul II Soul,
Banda Bassotti,
F. McDonald,
The Smoke,
The Red Krayola,
Severed Heads,
Gong,
John Lydon,
Malaria!,
DJ Style,
Make Up,
Joyce Sims,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Pole,
Clear Light,
Au Pairs,
Matthew Halsall,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jesper Dahlback,
Fat Boys,
The Flesh Eaters,
Colin Newman,
The Martian,
Michelle Simonal,
Stiv Bators,
Eric Dolphy,
Motorama,
Bobby Womack,
Soul Sonic Force,
Quando Quango,
Thompson Twins,
A Flock of Seagulls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Gories,
Niagra,
Vladislav Delay,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Easy Going,
Roy Ayers,
Rotary Connection,
Yellowson,
Pantytec,
Tom Boy,
Minor Threat,
KRS-One,
The Mummies,
Yazoo,
The Birthday Party,
The Evens,
Blossom Toes,
Quantec,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Ronnie Foster,
Swell Maps,
Max Romeo,
Bill Near,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Selecter,
Soft Machine,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.