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 Tunisia and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 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 Main Source. All the underground hits.
All Q and Not U tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Christie 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bluetip,
Blossom Toes,
The Zeros,
Qualms,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Das Ding,
Flipper,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Flesh Eaters,
Moss Icon,
Bootsy Collins,
Anakelly,
Soulsonic Force,
KRS-One,
Au Pairs,
Animal Collective,
Joensuu 1685,
Infiniti,
The Real Kids,
Crooked Eye,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Divine Comedy,
Tim Buckley,
Tubeway Army,
Cecil Taylor,
B.T. Express,
Ohio Players,
Neil Young,
Nation of Ulysses,
Livin' Joy,
Reuben Wilson,
James White and The Blacks,
Mars,
Albert Ayler,
Excepter,
Basic Channel,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Todd Terry,
Tomorrow,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Malaria!,
Monolake,
R.M.O.,
Youth Brigade,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Blake Baxter,
Guru Guru,
Ornette Coleman,
Mo-Dettes,
Junior Murvin,
The Sonics,
Ken Boothe,
Slave,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Tres Demented,
Flamin' Groovies,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Donny Hathaway,
The Dead C,
48th St. Collective,
Cheater Slicks,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.