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 Malawi and from Salvador.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 marimba 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 Wally Richardson 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 The Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobbi Humphrey,
John Holt,
Funky Four + One,
Harmonia,
The Dave Clark Five,
Half Japanese,
Maurizio,
Tears for Fears,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Carl Craig,
Franke,
Kool Moe Dee,
Khruangbin,
Scan 7,
The Barracudas,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ralphi Rosario,
the Fania All-Stars,
Mad Mike,
Arthur Verocai,
Minny Pops,
Godley & Creme,
Tom Boy,
kango's stein massive,
The Fortunes,
Minnie Riperton,
Swell Maps,
Tubeway Army,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Joey Negro,
Janne Schatter,
Easy Going,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Second Layer,
Gang Starr,
Supertramp,
Dead Boys,
Icehouse,
The Standells,
Donny Hathaway,
Terrestrial Tones,
Section 25,
H. Thieme,
The Victims,
Oneida,
Outsiders,
Susan Cadogan,
Jacob Miller,
Black Flag,
Chris & Cosey,
The Gladiators,
Fad Gadget,
Boz Scaggs,
The Remains,
Bobby Byrd,
Lindisfarne,
Accadde A,
Isaac Hayes,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.