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 Philippines and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 rhodes 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 Kerri Chandler to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Heavy D & The Boyz. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
The Electric Prunes,
The Blues Magoos,
Bang On A Can,
Sugar Minott,
Barry Ungar,
Guru Guru,
Ken Boothe,
Panda Bear,
Popol Vuh,
Susan Cadogan,
Scratch Acid,
Thee Headcoats,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Deakin,
Sun City Girls,
Black Pus,
Pierre Henry,
Girls At Our Best!,
Dave Gahan,
Anakelly,
Bobby Sherman,
The Black Dice,
Ludus,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
the Swans,
Alton Ellis,
Unrelated Segments,
Sound Behaviour,
Deepchord,
The Mummies,
Gang Green,
Nas,
The Red Krayola,
Schoolly D,
Agitation Free,
The Trojans,
Fear,
U.S. Maple,
The Cramps,
The Fire Engines,
Johnny Osbourne,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Roy Ayers,
Cluster,
The Seeds,
Can,
Icehouse,
Mr. Review,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Absolute Body Control,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Slackers,
The Saints,
Bootsy Collins,
June of 44,
Sonic Youth,
Juan Atkins,
Delta 5,
Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub.
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.