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 Venezuela and from Bremen.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Don Cherry to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pet Shop Boys. All the underground hits.
All Man Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Glambeats Corp.,
Junior Murvin,
Rites of Spring,
K-Klass,
Barrington Levy,
Idris Muhammad,
The New Christs,
The Last Poets,
Panda Bear,
Alison Limerick,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Oneida,
The Cramps,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rufus Thomas,
Blossom Toes,
The Gun Club,
Dual Sessions,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Dennis Brown,
Whodini,
Marshall Jefferson,
Motorama,
Jesper Dahlback,
Harry Pussy,
Ronan,
The Music Machine,
Magma,
EPMD,
Johnny Clarke,
Cybotron,
Surgeon,
Babytalk,
Delta 5,
Sarah Menescal,
Harpers Bizarre,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bad Manners,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lou Reed,
Jeff Lynne,
Parry Music,
Curtis Mayfield,
Yellowson,
John Cale,
The Smoke,
Metal Thangz,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gil Scott Heron,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Saints,
Make Up,
Moebius,
The Buckinghams,
The Vogues,
Donald Byrd,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Durutti Column,
The Leaves,
La Düsseldorf,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.