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 Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 linndrum 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 Maurizio to the grunge 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 Hardrive. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
The Monks,
Moby Grape,
Ohio Players,
Dorothy Ashby,
Letta Mbulu,
The Last Poets,
Bad Manners,
The Busters,
Erasure,
the Slits,
Kayak,
Sarah Menescal,
Quadrant,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Offenders,
Ornette Coleman,
E-Dancer,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Excepter,
The Beau Brummels,
Donny Hathaway,
Porter Ricks,
Eurythmics,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sex Pistols,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Max Romeo,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Fortunes,
Avey Tare,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Nils Olav,
X-102,
Amazonics,
Tommy Roe,
Kerri Chandler,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ultravox,
The Wake,
Hardrive,
Minny Pops,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Star Department,
F. McDonald,
Chris & Cosey,
Sonny Sharrock,
Barry Ungar,
Scientists,
Derrick Morgan,
Schoolly D,
Morten Harket,
Wasted Youth,
Brothers Johnson,
Reuben Wilson,
The Gories,
Make Up,
Deakin,
Soul II Soul,
Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster.
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.