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 Zambia and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Depeche Mode to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All New Age Steppers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed,
Jacob Miller,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Supertramp,
Johnny Osbourne,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Marc Almond,
the Soft Cell,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Fear,
Jeff Mills,
Frankie Knuckles,
FM Einheit,
Outsiders,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Evens,
Soul Sonic Force,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Don Cherry,
Bob Dylan,
Deepchord,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Man Parrish,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Moss Icon,
The Beau Brummels,
Y Pants,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Procol Harum,
Bluetip,
Animal Collective,
The Happenings,
KRS-One,
Pierre Henry,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Freddie Wadling,
ABBA,
Crooked Eye,
Eric Dolphy,
Brick,
The Last Poets,
10cc,
Maurizio,
Lee Hazlewood,
Flash Fearless,
Gregory Isaacs,
Marine Girls,
The Seeds,
Bronski Beat,
The Blues Magoos,
Mantronix,
The Monochrome Set,
The Pretty Things,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Names,
Hot Snakes,
Harry Pussy,
Sun Ra,
The Cowsills,
Neil Young,
Scrapy,
The Mummies,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.