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 Ghana and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 arpeggiator 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 The Stooges to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cure record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Judy Mowatt,
Tubeway Army,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Brick,
Soft Machine,
Donny Hathaway,
The Remains,
Suburban Knight,
Make Up,
David McCallum,
MDC,
Cluster,
Matthew Halsall,
Delon & Dalcan,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Morten Harket,
Yellowson,
Mo-Dettes,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Agent Orange,
the Sonics,
Steve Hackett,
DNA,
Andrew Hill,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Crime,
48th St. Collective,
Flamin' Groovies,
Interpol,
8 Eyed Spy,
Funky Four + One,
Sexual Harrassment,
R.M.O.,
the Slits,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Doors,
Gastr Del Sol,
Aloha Tigers,
Grandmaster Flash,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Junior Murvin,
Oneida,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Television,
Shuggie Otis,
The Grass Roots,
John Cale,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Minny Pops,
Ronnie Foster,
Adolescents,
Stiv Bators,
Masters at Work,
Roger Hodgson,
Josef K,
Bill Near,
Harry Pussy,
Dennis Brown,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.