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 Iran and from Calgary.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 sitar 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 Sexual Harrassment to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Drexciya tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Gil Scott Heron,
Japan,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Leonard Cohen,
Jawbox,
Sonic Youth,
Kayak,
Ultra Naté,
Arthur Verocai,
Y Pants,
The Count Five,
DJ Sneak,
The Techniques,
Brothers Johnson,
Idris Muhammad,
Drive Like Jehu,
Alton Ellis,
Freddie Wadling,
Letta Mbulu,
Clear Light,
Pylon,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Circle Jerks,
Camberwell Now,
Electric Prunes,
Robert Görl,
Hardrive,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Outsiders,
Cheater Slicks,
The Real Kids,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Slits,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Fear,
Q and Not U,
Spandau Ballet,
Erykah Badu,
June of 44,
Sonny Sharrock,
Wasted Youth,
Terrestrial Tones,
The United States of America,
Arcadia,
Reuben Wilson,
Harry Pussy,
Mission of Burma,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Henry Cow,
Josef K,
Hashim,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Yusef Lateef,
Schoolly D,
Drexciya,
F. McDonald,
Cybotron,
Moebius,
The Evens,
Gang Green,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.