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 Kyrgyzstan and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 clarinet 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the crunk 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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Quadrant tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barclay James Harvest record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Con Funk Shun,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Cecil Taylor,
48th St. Collective,
June of 44,
Donald Byrd,
Magma,
Q65,
Bang On A Can,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Pagans,
Arab on Radar,
Cal Tjader,
ABBA,
The New Christs,
It's A Beautiful Day,
John Lydon,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Residents,
Qualms,
Liliput,
Black Pus,
Black Moon,
Mr. Review,
Quando Quango,
Fatback Band,
The Skatalites,
Ohio Players,
The Slits,
Traffic Nightmare,
Anthony Braxton,
Flash Fearless,
Ludus,
Underground Resistance,
The Gories,
Eric Dolphy,
Andrew Hill,
Ponytail,
Jandek,
The Divine Comedy,
Make Up,
Spoonie Gee,
Prince Buster,
The J.B.'s,
Lebanon Hanover,
Von Mondo,
Jawbox,
The Leaves,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
X-102,
Soul Sonic Force,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
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.