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 Mauritania and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Massinfluence to the disco 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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
Erykah Badu,
Faraquet,
Ituana,
Kas Product,
Dennis Brown,
EPMD,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Delta 5,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Kinks,
Crooked Eye,
Sonny Sharrock,
Anakelly,
The Move,
Monks,
The Birthday Party,
Kerri Chandler,
Eric B and Rakim,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Blancmange,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mark Hollis,
AZ,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Depeche Mode,
Don Cherry,
The Mummies,
Connie Case,
Hot Snakes,
The Music Machine,
Cal Tjader,
Yazoo,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Soft Cell,
Marine Girls,
Electric Prunes,
Ornette Coleman,
Grauzone,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Walker Brothers,
Slave,
The Blackbyrds,
The Beau Brummels,
The Smiths,
Jerry's Kids,
Charles Mingus,
Donny Hathaway,
The Dirtbombs,
Fluxion,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lebanon Hanover,
Aural Exciters,
kango's stein massive,
Groovy Waters,
Ronnie Foster,
Qualms,
Danielle Patucci,
Ultra Naté,
Black Sheep,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.