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 Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Residents to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 snare 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 Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
E-Dancer,
The Golliwogs,
Theoretical Girls,
Avey Tare,
The Birthday Party,
Loose Ends,
Harry Pussy,
Intrusion,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Toasters,
Sugar Minott,
the Germs,
Yellowson,
The Monochrome Set,
Cluster,
OOIOO,
The Slackers,
Pulsallama,
The Music Machine,
Crooked Eye,
Graham Central Station,
Grey Daturas,
Idris Muhammad,
Jacques Brel,
Derrick Morgan,
Alphaville,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Traffic Nightmare,
Dorothy Ashby,
Yaz,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Anthony Braxton,
Von Mondo,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Steve Hackett,
Animal Collective,
John Holt,
Agent Orange,
Maurizio,
The Evens,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Searchers,
This Heat,
Junior Murvin,
KRS-One,
Slave,
Joey Negro,
Lebanon Hanover,
Symarip,
Joe Smooth,
Bobby Womack,
Altered Images,
Sex Pistols,
The Mummies,
Essential Logic,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Associates,
Peter and Kerry,
The Cosmic Jokers,
DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style.
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.