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 Liechtenstein and from Glasgow.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
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 Sugar Minott to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Organ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minnie Riperton,
Brand Nubian,
8 Eyed Spy,
Mr. Review,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ten City,
Jimmy McGriff,
Second Layer,
Make Up,
Cal Tjader,
Buzzcocks,
Scratch Acid,
Davy DMX,
Procol Harum,
Bobby Hutcherson,
OOIOO,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Doors,
Fat Boys,
Michelle Simonal,
Erasure,
This Heat,
Rites of Spring,
Kool Moe Dee,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Lou Reed,
Radiopuhelimet,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Last Poets,
The Mojo Men,
Lucky Dragons,
The Knickerbockers,
The Real Kids,
Trumans Water,
The Grass Roots,
Niagra,
Gerry Rafferty,
In Retrospect,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Stetsasonic,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gabor Szabo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Five Americans,
Joey Negro,
Crash Course in Science,
Roxette,
Yusef Lateef,
AZ,
Rotary Connection,
Schoolly D,
Tubeway Army,
Animal Collective,
John Foxx,
The Blackbyrds,
The Star Department,
Gichy Dan,
Ultra Naté,
Mars,
Mission of Burma,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.