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 Samoa and from Edmonton.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the guitar 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 Letta Mbulu to the jazz 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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kas Product record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Zeros,
Wasted Youth,
The Tremeloes,
Pantaleimon,
The American Breed,
H. Thieme,
Ponytail,
Drexciya,
T.S.O.L.,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Soul II Soul,
Radiohead,
EPMD,
Rod Modell,
The Evens,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Aloha Tigers,
The Five Americans,
Silicon Teens,
Wally Richardson,
Sixth Finger,
The Doors,
Television Personalities,
Soulsonic Force,
Warsaw,
Ultravox,
Sex Pistols,
Kerrie Biddell,
Erykah Badu,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Frankie Knuckles,
Nico,
Con Funk Shun,
AZ,
Gong,
The Sonics,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sugar Minott,
Desert Stars,
Grauzone,
Intrusion,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Standells,
Slick Rick,
Lebanon Hanover,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Nirvana,
JFA,
Absolute Body Control,
Mad Mike,
Nik Kershaw,
Lindisfarne,
Blossom Toes,
Bootsy Collins,
Mr. Review,
Eli Mardock,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Sonics,
Derrick Morgan,
Young Marble Giants,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.