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 Kiribati and from Cairo.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Gregory Isaacs to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Yazoo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Mills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Crooked Eye,
Radio Birdman,
DJ Sneak,
Qualms,
Sonic Youth,
Barrington Levy,
Soul II Soul,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Connie Case,
Pagans,
Bootsy Collins,
Bush Tetras,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
U.S. Maple,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Loose Ends,
Gang Gang Dance,
Rod Modell,
Colin Newman,
Laurel Aitken,
Brick,
Nirvana,
Jawbox,
Shuggie Otis,
Cal Tjader,
The Selecter,
The Sound,
Hot Snakes,
Crash Course in Science,
Procol Harum,
Peter and Kerry,
Sister Nancy,
The Real Kids,
Darondo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Modern Lovers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Quantec,
Davy DMX,
The Last Poets,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Technova,
Anakelly,
Q65,
The Names,
Cymande,
The Young Rascals,
Sparks,
Skaos,
Bobby Womack,
The Raincoats,
Buzzcocks,
Whodini,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Sugar Minott,
Boogie Down Productions,
Funkadelic,
The Associates,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.