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 Micronesia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Wolf Eyes to the rap 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 Tommy Roe. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neu! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pierre Henry,
Kurtis Blow,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Mojo Men,
Electric Prunes,
Vladislav Delay,
Anthony Braxton,
Popol Vuh,
Peter and Kerry,
Spandau Ballet,
Skriet,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Youth Brigade,
Jesper Dahlback,
Brick,
Aswad,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
F. McDonald,
Arcadia,
Funkadelic,
Agitation Free,
Mr. Review,
Bill Near,
Dorothy Ashby,
John Coltrane,
Jimmy McGriff,
DNA,
Sonny Sharrock,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The United States of America,
Flipper,
The Last Poets,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Terrestrial Tones,
Don Cherry,
Mantronix,
The Detroit Cobras,
Marcia Griffiths,
L. Decosne,
Bobby Sherman,
The Searchers,
Dark Day,
The Moody Blues,
Blossom Toes,
Suicide,
Agent Orange,
Scrapy,
Barbara Tucker,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Tomorrow,
DJ Style,
Zero Boys,
Brothers Johnson,
Guru Guru,
Jacob Miller,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Unwound,
Wally Richardson,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.