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 Belarus and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Royal Family And The Poor to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Anakelly. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alton Ellis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Crime,
The New Christs,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Gories,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Rapeman,
Fatback Band,
Mission of Burma,
Make Up,
Sixth Finger,
K-Klass,
Animal Collective,
Joensuu 1685,
Funkadelic,
Quando Quango,
Robert Görl,
Monks,
Kevin Saunderson,
Pantytec,
the Normal,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bob Dylan,
Josef K,
Michelle Simonal,
The Selecter,
Brass Construction,
Kerrie Biddell,
Electric Prunes,
Desert Stars,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kurtis Blow,
The Gladiators,
Arab on Radar,
Godley & Creme,
Bush Tetras,
Tres Demented,
Anthony Braxton,
Kool Moe Dee,
the Human League,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Blake Baxter,
Newcleus,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lebanon Hanover,
Absolute Body Control,
Procol Harum,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Skatalites,
Roger Hodgson,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dual Sessions,
Susan Cadogan,
X-101,
Flash Fearless,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Hoover,
Gichy Dan,
Todd Terry,
Ludus,
Donald Byrd,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.