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 Finland 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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Fort Wilson Riot to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Near,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ultimate Spinach,
Connie Case,
the Bar-Kays,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Glenn Branca,
The Remains,
The Sound,
The Red Krayola,
Hardrive,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sister Nancy,
Colin Newman,
The Monks,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Golliwogs,
Isaac Hayes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pulsallama,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Maurizio,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Y Pants,
Jimmy McGriff,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Cal Tjader,
Joyce Sims,
Jesper Dahlback,
AZ,
Sixth Finger,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Saccharine Trust,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Joy Division,
The Fire Engines,
The Kinks,
Lee Hazlewood,
David Axelrod,
Pierre Henry,
Ronan,
Jeru the Damaja,
48th St. Collective,
Inner City,
The Barracudas,
Chris Corsano,
Bootsy Collins,
Traffic Nightmare,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Doors,
Mo-Dettes,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Cramps,
Joey Negro,
Bronski Beat,
One Last Wish,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Idris Muhammad,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.