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 Korea North and from Cairo.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Albert Ayler to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Suicide tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quantec record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Charles Mingus,
Hot Snakes,
The Gun Club,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Oneida,
Cybotron,
Rapeman,
Desert Stars,
48th St. Collective,
Gang Starr,
Angry Samoans,
The Index,
The Gap Band,
Juan Atkins,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Agent Orange,
Blossom Toes,
Amon Düül,
Roxy Music,
The Moody Blues,
Sonic Youth,
Cymande,
FM Einheit,
Half Japanese,
Arab on Radar,
Lalo Schifrin,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Red Krayola,
Banda Bassotti,
The Birthday Party,
Bang On A Can,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Accadde A,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Misunderstood,
Grauzone,
Ohio Players,
JFA,
Rod Modell,
The Neon Judgement,
John Coltrane,
Eurythmics,
10cc,
Ossler,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Trojans,
Robert Wyatt,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Fortunes,
The Pretty Things,
Archie Shepp,
Derrick May,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.