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 Iraq and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba 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 Judy Mowatt to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mummies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Delon & Dalcan 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?
Magma,
Lower 48,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Black Bananas,
The Fugs,
Eddi Front,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mars,
Youth Brigade,
Dead Boys,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Alarm Clocks,
48th St. Collective,
U.S. Maple,
Smog,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bill Wells,
Lou Reed,
Throbbing Gristle,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bang On A Can,
Susan Cadogan,
Neil Young,
Skaos,
Depeche Mode,
Motorama,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Glambeats Corp.,
Malaria!,
The Busters,
Tom Boy,
the Sonics,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lakeside,
The Mummies,
LL Cool J,
Jimmy McGriff,
Erykah Badu,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Beau Brummels,
Marine Girls,
Blossom Toes,
H. Thieme,
The Trojans,
Matthew Halsall,
Henry Cow,
Deadbeat,
Joey Negro,
Ornette Coleman,
Byron Stingily,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Victims,
Cecil Taylor,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Barry Ungar,
Slave,
Delon & Dalcan,
Dorothy Ashby,
F. McDonald,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.