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 Vanuatu and from Toronto.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Crispian St. Peters to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every OOIOO record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lebanon Hanover,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Fad Gadget,
La Düsseldorf,
Danielle Patucci,
Suicide,
Gichy Dan,
The Selecter,
ABBA,
The Music Machine,
Todd Terry,
Warren Ellis,
Royal Trux,
Das Ding,
Talk Talk,
Niagra,
Marmalade,
Radiohead,
Malaria!,
Nik Kershaw,
Rites of Spring,
Circle Jerks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Icehouse,
Boredoms,
Parry Music,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Thompson Twins,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Byron Stingily,
T.S.O.L.,
Jandek,
Tomorrow,
The Last Poets,
Yusef Lateef,
Bill Near,
Avey Tare,
Easy Going,
Stetsasonic,
Man Parrish,
Ten City,
Colin Newman,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Mummies,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Cosmic Jokers,
EPMD,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
KRS-One,
The Count Five,
Vainqueur,
Moby Grape,
The Gap Band,
Sister Nancy,
Suburban Knight,
Wally Richardson,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Swans,
Bobby Byrd,
The Knickerbockers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Anthony Braxton,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))).
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.