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 Senegal and from Tehran.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the punk 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magazine,
Boredoms,
Blancmange,
John Holt,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Pole,
Altered Images,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Grass Roots,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Misunderstood,
Don Cherry,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gabor Szabo,
The Velvet Underground,
Lou Reed,
Gang Starr,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
48th St. Collective,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bootsy Collins,
Sonic Youth,
Massinfluence,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Amon Düül II,
Neil Young,
Basic Channel,
The Moody Blues,
Second Layer,
Young Marble Giants,
Black Pus,
Faust,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Eurythmics,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Agitation Free,
Lindisfarne,
Fifty Foot Hose,
MDC,
Tubeway Army,
Yaz,
The Beau Brummels,
Talk Talk,
Janne Schatter,
The Blues Magoos,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sight & Sound,
Althea and Donna,
E-Dancer,
Saccharine Trust,
Soft Machine,
Delon & Dalcan,
Schoolly D,
Scott Walker,
The Red Krayola,
The Toasters,
The Angels of Light,
The Smoke,
The Names,
Gang of Four,
Bush Tetras,
The Cramps,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.