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 Equatorial Guinea and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Wolf Eyes to the funk 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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All Harpers Bizarre tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echospace 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alice Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pantaleimon,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Al Stewart,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lou Reed,
Television Personalities,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Knickerbockers,
Scientists,
Goldenarms,
UT,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Whodini,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rakim,
Intrusion,
Mark Hollis,
The Fugs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
E-Dancer,
The Offenders,
Dawn Penn,
Sun City Girls,
Franke,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Smog,
The Birthday Party,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ultra Naté,
Mandrill,
The Slackers,
The Gories,
Anthony Braxton,
Brothers Johnson,
Brass Construction,
Donald Byrd,
A Certain Ratio,
Althea and Donna,
Susan Cadogan,
Hot Snakes,
Q and Not U,
Warsaw,
Drexciya,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ohio Players,
The Music Machine,
Quadrant,
Country Teasers,
B.T. Express,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Second Layer,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs.
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.