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 Indonesia and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Arcadia to the disco 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 Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
Faust,
DJ Style,
Michelle Simonal,
Amazonics,
Andrew Hill,
The Smiths,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Misunderstood,
Leonard Cohen,
Gang Starr,
Iggy Pop,
Soft Cell,
Clear Light,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Erykah Badu,
The Last Poets,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ituana,
Suburban Knight,
Kool Moe Dee,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Toasters,
Y Pants,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Gong,
Tubeway Army,
The Names,
Morten Harket,
New Order,
Glenn Branca,
Supertramp,
World's Most,
The Count Five,
Popol Vuh,
Suicide,
The Gladiators,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Steve Hackett,
Stetsasonic,
the Bar-Kays,
the Human League,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Happenings,
The Fortunes,
The Stooges,
Reuben Wilson,
Peter & Gordon,
Motorama,
Minutemen,
Pussy Galore,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Golliwogs,
Fat Boys,
Whodini,
The Index,
Quantec,
The Velvet Underground,
Soft Machine,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.