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 Sudan and from Stockholm.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Sonny Sharrock to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 KRS-One. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Technova,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Quadrant,
Whodini,
The Pretty Things,
Malaria!,
X-102,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Youth Brigade,
Warsaw,
10cc,
EPMD,
Delta 5,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Hoover,
Vainqueur,
Barry Ungar,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Human League,
Amon Düül,
Au Pairs,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Blues Magoos,
The Cramps,
Bob Dylan,
The Fuzztones,
Mars,
Inner City,
John Lydon,
The Offenders,
The Five Americans,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Trumans Water,
Infiniti,
Cheater Slicks,
Kaleidoscope,
The Neon Judgement,
Minny Pops,
Skriet,
Dark Day,
Fugazi,
Gastr Del Sol,
Visage,
Quantec,
The Dead C,
DNA,
New York Dolls,
The Selecter,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bill Near,
Young Marble Giants,
John Cale,
Ituana,
The Toasters,
Eric B and Rakim,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Vogues,
Swans,
Lebanon Hanover,
Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz.
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.