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 Switzerland and from Sao Paulo.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Altered Images to the rock 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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Panda Bear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Motions,
Kaleidoscope,
Rites of Spring,
Ohio Players,
The Moleskins,
The Saints,
Fad Gadget,
The Litter,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pet Shop Boys,
Delon & Dalcan,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Star Department,
The Barracudas,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Leonard Cohen,
Fatback Band,
Brass Construction,
June of 44,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Invisible,
Groovy Waters,
The Zeros,
Sister Nancy,
The Alarm Clocks,
Echospace,
Wire,
The Human League,
Marvin Gaye,
The Cramps,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Throbbing Gristle,
DJ Style,
Lucky Dragons,
The New Christs,
Skriet,
Cymande,
Derrick May,
Audionom,
Niagra,
The Move,
Heaven 17,
Sparks,
Minutemen,
Moss Icon,
Laurel Aitken,
Clear Light,
The Last Poets,
Pantytec,
Kenny Larkin,
the Swans,
Yusef Lateef,
Grandmaster Flash,
Barry Ungar,
Trumans Water,
Intrusion,
Bootsy Collins,
Smog,
Crash Course in Science,
B.T. Express,
Harmonia,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.