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 Tajikistan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 United States of America to the jazz 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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Fluxion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rod Modell 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yazoo,
B.T. Express,
the Sonics,
Eric Dolphy,
Thee Headcoats,
Little Man,
Todd Rundgren,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Joe Smooth,
The Slackers,
Inner City,
Brick,
Radio Birdman,
Mo-Dettes,
Skriet,
Rosa Yemen,
Andrew Hill,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Divine Comedy,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Newcleus,
Colin Newman,
A Certain Ratio,
Gregory Isaacs,
Albert Ayler,
Tomorrow,
Urselle,
U.S. Maple,
Iggy Pop,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Monochrome Set,
Archie Shepp,
Hoover,
Joey Negro,
Lindisfarne,
Organ,
The Grass Roots,
Nick Fraelich,
Smog,
Ponytail,
Terrestrial Tones,
Model 500,
The Dave Clark Five,
China Crisis,
The Gladiators,
Faust,
Thompson Twins,
Rites of Spring,
Boogie Down Productions,
Derrick May,
Charles Mingus,
The Residents,
Electric Light Orchestra,
K-Klass,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Roxette,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fela Kuti,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.