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 Portugal and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Nation of Ulysses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
The Monks,
Wasted Youth,
Moss Icon,
The Golliwogs,
Soulsonic Force,
Judy Mowatt,
Stetsasonic,
Boogie Down Productions,
Angry Samoans,
The Star Department,
Byron Stingily,
Surgeon,
Y Pants,
Henry Cow,
The American Breed,
Bronski Beat,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Q and Not U,
The Sonics,
Amon Düül,
Rekid,
Index,
Peter and Kerry,
Joe Finger,
Das Ding,
Essential Logic,
Janne Schatter,
The Birthday Party,
Marc Almond,
Tubeway Army,
Tomorrow,
China Crisis,
Panda Bear,
Eric Copeland,
The Music Machine,
Bang On A Can,
T. Rex,
Clear Light,
Supertramp,
The Real Kids,
Aswad,
Cal Tjader,
Soul II Soul,
David McCallum,
a-ha,
Derrick May,
Monolake,
F. McDonald,
The Fugs,
Masters at Work,
the Sonics,
Albert Ayler,
Animal Collective,
Colin Newman,
Little Man,
Country Teasers,
The United States of America,
Alison Limerick,
Sight & Sound,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.