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 Poland 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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Traffic Nightmare to the disco 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 Agitation Free. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacob Miller record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Cowsills,
OOIOO,
T.S.O.L.,
The Associates,
Sonic Youth,
Minny Pops,
Aaron Thompson,
The Dead C,
The Red Krayola,
The Names,
Bush Tetras,
Sun City Girls,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Arthur Verocai,
Moss Icon,
The Golliwogs,
K-Klass,
Isaac Hayes,
Warsaw,
Ronnie Foster,
Dennis Brown,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
New Age Steppers,
Brand Nubian,
Nils Olav,
Fat Boys,
Radiohead,
Junior Murvin,
Flipper,
Newcleus,
Make Up,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lalann,
Vainqueur,
Underground Resistance,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Offenders,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Eli Mardock,
Grey Daturas,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Parry Music,
Joyce Sims,
Tears for Fears,
Kool Moe Dee,
Alice Coltrane,
Minnie Riperton,
Eddi Front,
Bad Manners,
Lee Hazlewood,
Barry Ungar,
Brothers Johnson,
Heaven 17,
Gang Green,
Letta Mbulu,
The J.B.'s,
The Sound,
Frankie Knuckles,
Drive Like Jehu,
Animal Collective,
Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science.
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.