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 Senegal and from Houston.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
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 Bill Near to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alphaville,
Black Bananas,
The Golliwogs,
Wings,
Hot Snakes,
Black Pus,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Susan Cadogan,
The Alarm Clocks,
Don Cherry,
Drexciya,
Cameo,
Gichy Dan,
Cluster,
Erykah Badu,
Peter and Kerry,
Eric Copeland,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pylon,
John Coltrane,
Ronan,
Glambeats Corp.,
Barrington Levy,
Michelle Simonal,
Letta Mbulu,
Eli Mardock,
Bill Wells,
Sugar Minott,
Sällskapet,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Donny Hathaway,
Quando Quango,
Absolute Body Control,
The Fall,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Fatback Band,
Gang of Four,
Sonic Youth,
Oblivians,
Joensuu 1685,
Deepchord,
Basic Channel,
Johnny Osbourne,
Moss Icon,
Lou Reed,
Organ,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lucky Dragons,
Dark Day,
Unrelated Segments,
Black Moon,
Jeff Mills,
The Pretty Things,
The Mummies,
The Wake,
Laurel Aitken,
La Düsseldorf,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Seeds,
The Names,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.