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 Bangladesh and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 güiro 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 Sarah Menescal to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Soulsonic Force. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Main Source,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
the Bar-Kays,
Al Stewart,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Alice Coltrane,
Sparks,
Grauzone,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
David Bowie,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Royal Trux,
John Holt,
ABC,
Isaac Hayes,
The Neon Judgement,
Derrick Morgan,
Deakin,
Erykah Badu,
Jacques Brel,
The Smiths,
Kerri Chandler,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Toasters,
Khruangbin,
Minny Pops,
Piero Umiliani,
Suicide,
Alphaville,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Drive Like Jehu,
MDC,
the Association,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
the Soft Cell,
Dead Boys,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Suburban Knight,
Panda Bear,
Toni Rubio,
Outsiders,
Cymande,
U.S. Maple,
Glenn Branca,
The Busters,
Young Marble Giants,
Angry Samoans,
Matthew Halsall,
Terry Callier,
Joey Negro,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
New Age Steppers,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Kinks,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Fugazi,
The New Christs,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Tommy Roe,
Bobby Sherman,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.