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 Ukraine and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Barrington Levy to the rap 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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Newcleus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Bar-Kays record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Little Man,
Dawn Penn,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Red Krayola,
Sandy B,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
F. McDonald,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
MC5,
Grauzone,
Rites of Spring,
Byron Stingily,
Arthur Verocai,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Index,
Tom Boy,
Yusef Lateef,
Kevin Saunderson,
Scrapy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Anthony Braxton,
Trumans Water,
Isaac Hayes,
Lakeside,
Echospace,
Wasted Youth,
Man Eating Sloth,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Mad Mike,
Warren Ellis,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Roger Hodgson,
Cal Tjader,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
ABBA,
Alice Coltrane,
Von Mondo,
Delta 5,
Thompson Twins,
Cecil Taylor,
Amazonics,
Monolake,
Barbara Tucker,
Pole,
Deakin,
Angry Samoans,
Bad Manners,
Aswad,
Jandek,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Gladiators,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Victims,
The Count Five,
Wolf Eyes,
Nas,
Niagra,
Althea and Donna,
Altered Images,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Second Layer,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.