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 Kazakhstan and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Jimmy McGriff to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Fortunes. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skaos 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 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Axelrod,
Davy DMX,
Bob Dylan,
Crime,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Eddi Front,
The Toasters,
Deakin,
Stiv Bators,
Jacques Brel,
Ken Boothe,
Vainqueur,
Howard Jones,
Absolute Body Control,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Searchers,
Anthony Braxton,
Yaz,
The Techniques,
Index,
Eli Mardock,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Moleskins,
The Shadows of Knight,
Deepchord,
Half Japanese,
Eric Copeland,
The Golliwogs,
Icehouse,
The Divine Comedy,
Metal Thangz,
Brothers Johnson,
Tim Buckley,
MC5,
kango's stein massive,
The Beau Brummels,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lyres,
Grauzone,
The Martian,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
DJ Style,
Freddie Wadling,
The Standells,
Kurtis Blow,
Mandrill,
Erykah Badu,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Fugazi,
The Kinks,
T. Rex,
Scott Walker,
Monks,
The Monochrome Set,
Wally Richardson,
Whodini,
The Busters,
Tropical Tobacco,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.