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 Palau and from Lagos.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Young Rascals to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rod Modell 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Visage,
Alice Coltrane,
Lyres,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Association,
The Durutti Column,
Marshall Jefferson,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Judy Mowatt,
Loose Ends,
Average White Band,
Bobby Byrd,
The Litter,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Grandmaster Flash,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Names,
Echospace,
Sonny Sharrock,
China Crisis,
Gang Starr,
ABBA,
The Angels of Light,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sarah Menescal,
Archie Shepp,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Man Parrish,
Suburban Knight,
Marcia Griffiths,
E-Dancer,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Monolake,
Half Japanese,
Q and Not U,
Harpers Bizarre,
Cecil Taylor,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Derrick Morgan,
New Order,
Accadde A,
June of 44,
D'Angelo,
Hashim,
Deepchord,
Susan Cadogan,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Music Machine,
Lee Hazlewood,
Goldenarms,
Bauhaus,
Boogie Down Productions,
Albert Ayler,
New York Dolls,
Alison Limerick,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
MC5,
Mantronix,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.