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 Romania and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 organ 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Easy Going tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Panda Bear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Althea and Donna,
Roxette,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
World's Most,
CMW,
Grey Daturas,
Man Eating Sloth,
Chris Corsano,
Unrelated Segments,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Smog,
Glambeats Corp.,
Roger Hodgson,
Japan,
ABBA,
Terry Callier,
Blancmange,
AZ,
Gong,
Amon Düül,
The Fugs,
Dead Boys,
Goldenarms,
Niagra,
Lungfish,
Nico,
Blake Baxter,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Yazoo,
Bluetip,
Crispian St. Peters,
JFA,
Tim Buckley,
Roy Ayers,
Sonic Youth,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
David Bowie,
The Fall,
Minutemen,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Deakin,
Toni Rubio,
Youth Brigade,
The Grass Roots,
Gabor Szabo,
Skarface,
The Dirtbombs,
Ultra Naté,
the Swans,
New Order,
R.M.O.,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Litter,
F. McDonald,
the Bar-Kays,
Lalann,
The Knickerbockers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Velvet Underground,
The Leaves,
June Days,
Q and Not U,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.