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 Grenada and from Toronto.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the organ 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 Barry Ungar to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Index. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare 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 Dirtbombs,
Man Parrish,
Interpol,
The Doobie Brothers,
Junior Murvin,
Aural Exciters,
Barbara Tucker,
Byron Stingily,
Circle Jerks,
Angry Samoans,
Cheater Slicks,
Jeff Mills,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rosa Yemen,
Silicon Teens,
The Mummies,
The Detroit Cobras,
Little Man,
Youth Brigade,
The Victims,
Derrick May,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Das Ding,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Symarip,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Eric Dolphy,
Boredoms,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Skatalites,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Tom Boy,
Severed Heads,
The Dead C,
JFA,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Amon Düül,
The Velvet Underground,
Avey Tare,
Kenny Larkin,
Ornette Coleman,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Busters,
the Association,
Marc Almond,
Alton Ellis,
Banda Bassotti,
Sandy B,
Eric B and Rakim,
Magazine,
Max Romeo,
Radiohead,
the Normal,
The Remains,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Delta 5,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Tomorrow,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.