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 the UAE and from Spokane.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the grunge 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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gichy Dan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
Ralphi Rosario,
Brass Construction,
the Sonics,
Half Japanese,
Roy Ayers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rod Modell,
Excepter,
Alphaville,
Henry Cow,
Man Parrish,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
New York Dolls,
Thee Headcoats,
Thompson Twins,
The Fire Engines,
Bob Dylan,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Joe Smooth,
The Modern Lovers,
The Last Poets,
Tomorrow,
Cheater Slicks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gabor Szabo,
Johnny Osbourne,
Hoover,
Rufus Thomas,
The Beau Brummels,
Oblivians,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Banda Bassotti,
Wolf Eyes,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Detroit Cobras,
Blancmange,
Stetsasonic,
Circle Jerks,
OOIOO,
The Raincoats,
the Swans,
Funky Four + One,
Newcleus,
The Seeds,
Kayak,
The Gories,
Davy DMX,
Lee Hazlewood,
Radiopuhelimet,
New Order,
Vainqueur,
Symarip,
Marshall Jefferson,
E-Dancer,
MC5,
Icehouse,
Stockholm Monsters,
Nirvana,
Dawn Penn,
MDC, MDC, MDC, MDC.
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.