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 Somalia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Star Department to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Gerry Rafferty. All the underground hits.
All Subhumans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jimmy McGriff record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Rekid,
Bobby Byrd,
Marmalade,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Cymande,
Kool Moe Dee,
Fatback Band,
Loose Ends,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Fuzztones,
Tom Boy,
Pantaleimon,
Sam Rivers,
Arthur Verocai,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Faraquet,
Faust,
The Wake,
Sound Behaviour,
Bill Near,
Glambeats Corp.,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Angry Samoans,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Gap Band,
Brothers Johnson,
Roxette,
Flipper,
The Blackbyrds,
The Sonics,
Ice-T,
Gregory Isaacs,
Aswad,
X-101,
Yaz,
Eddi Front,
Rapeman,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Alarm Clocks,
Warsaw,
Fugazi,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Yazoo,
Depeche Mode,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Freddie Wadling,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Banda Bassotti,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Q65,
Mad Mike,
Peter and Kerry,
OOIOO,
Crispian St. Peters,
Erykah Badu,
The Litter,
Average White Band,
T.S.O.L.,
Lou Christie,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Yusef Lateef,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.