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 Fiji and from Lyon.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel to the crunk 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 Stetsasonic. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Smog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Steve Hackett,
Gerry Rafferty,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Buzzcocks,
ABBA,
The Stooges,
Unrelated Segments,
EPMD,
U.S. Maple,
The Music Machine,
Moebius,
The Knickerbockers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Barracudas,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Fat Boys,
E-Dancer,
David Axelrod,
Gang Green,
Minnie Riperton,
Jandek,
Babytalk,
Thee Headcoats,
cv313,
A Certain Ratio,
Cal Tjader,
Oneida,
Wally Richardson,
Metal Thangz,
Zapp,
Gang Starr,
Aural Exciters,
The Divine Comedy,
Underground Resistance,
Nico,
Jerry Gold Smith,
L. Decosne,
Rekid,
Lindisfarne,
The Gories,
Chris & Cosey,
The Blackbyrds,
Vladislav Delay,
Eric Copeland,
Brick,
Lyres,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Brand Nubian,
Black Moon,
Franke,
The Dirtbombs,
Ossler,
The Selecter,
Cecil Taylor,
The Names,
The Moody Blues,
Ultra Naté,
The J.B.'s,
a-ha,
Letta Mbulu,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.