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 Madagascar and from Manila.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Second Layer to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All Trumans Water tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Animal Collective,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Mission of Burma,
Nik Kershaw,
The Index,
John Lydon,
Blancmange,
Masters at Work,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Cybotron,
Panda Bear,
Mary Jane Girls,
Suicide,
Peter and Kerry,
Scan 7,
Depeche Mode,
Yazoo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kayak,
Derrick May,
Pet Shop Boys,
Barrington Levy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Remains,
Aswad,
B.T. Express,
Avey Tare,
Moss Icon,
Toni Rubio,
Can,
Sun City Girls,
Alice Coltrane,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Move,
Funkadelic,
Pole,
Bill Near,
A Certain Ratio,
Bad Manners,
Rapeman,
Gang Starr,
Aaron Thompson,
Reuben Wilson,
Ponytail,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sun Ra,
Isaac Hayes,
Das Ding,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Velvet Underground,
Arthur Verocai,
the Germs,
Lyres,
Japan,
Black Bananas,
Traffic Nightmare,
Circle Jerks,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.