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 Portugal and from Spokane.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Panda Bear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Victims,
Animal Collective,
The Cure,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Half Japanese,
The Mojo Men,
The Tremeloes,
The Kinks,
Mr. Review,
Max Romeo,
Curtis Mayfield,
Althea and Donna,
The Raincoats,
The Detroit Cobras,
Tres Demented,
The Monks,
Eli Mardock,
Erasure,
Swell Maps,
The Alarm Clocks,
Newcleus,
Andrew Hill,
The Associates,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Knickerbockers,
Man Parrish,
Alton Ellis,
Bronski Beat,
Avey Tare,
The Music Machine,
Schoolly D,
John Coltrane,
The Pop Group,
Idris Muhammad,
The Buckinghams,
The Cowsills,
U.S. Maple,
Organ,
Chris & Cosey,
Wings,
Ohio Players,
the Soft Cell,
Jerry's Kids,
The Last Poets,
Porter Ricks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
This Heat,
Faust,
Anakelly,
Minor Threat,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Litter,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Pretty Things,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Cybotron,
Unrelated Segments,
Shuggie Otis,
Yusef Lateef,
Echospace,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers.
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.