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 Guatemala and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 marimba 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 Frankie Knuckles to the funk 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 Kenny Larkin. All the underground hits.
All The Invisible tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gap Band,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jeff Mills,
Buzzcocks,
The Shadows of Knight,
Circle Jerks,
Eric Dolphy,
The Monochrome Set,
Fluxion,
F. McDonald,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pantaleimon,
Graham Central Station,
DNA,
The Red Krayola,
Make Up,
Dual Sessions,
The Moleskins,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Stereo Dub,
The Remains,
the Human League,
Quantec,
Todd Terry,
The Busters,
Amon Düül II,
Maurizio,
AZ,
David Bowie,
New York Dolls,
a-ha,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Das Ding,
Tom Boy,
Jacob Miller,
Qualms,
Cameo,
Marcia Griffiths,
Au Pairs,
Sonny Sharrock,
Suicide,
Joyce Sims,
Mandrill,
Skaos,
Newcleus,
Supertramp,
The Move,
Lucky Dragons,
Sixth Finger,
Cybotron,
Bang On A Can,
Pulsallama,
John Holt,
Robert Wyatt,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Q and Not U,
David McCallum,
Panda Bear,
Bizarre Inc.,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Steve Hackett,
Loose Ends,
Parry Music,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.