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 Azerbaijan and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gregory Isaacs to the punk 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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lower 48 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Fall,
the Slits,
Marvin Gaye,
Smog,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Associates,
Make Up,
Gichy Dan,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Barrington Levy,
Monolake,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kayak,
The Dead C,
The Count Five,
The Slits,
Nik Kershaw,
Moby Grape,
Man Eating Sloth,
Swans,
Jeff Mills,
Moss Icon,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Buckinghams,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Graham Central Station,
Jandek,
Marc Almond,
Minny Pops,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Glambeats Corp.,
Vainqueur,
Arab on Radar,
The Raincoats,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sonic Youth,
Ituana,
The Leaves,
Sällskapet,
Lyres,
Mr. Review,
Alton Ellis,
Ludus,
Pere Ubu,
Inner City,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Scratch Acid,
The Doors,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Drexciya,
LL Cool J,
X-102,
The Skatalites,
Simply Red,
Arthur Verocai,
Zero Boys,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Brass Construction,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.