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 Suriname and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Lou Reed 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 The Velvet Underground to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Quando Quango tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cymande record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash,
Mandrill,
The Gun Club,
Todd Terry,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
KRS-One,
Moss Icon,
The Fire Engines,
OOIOO,
Gang Green,
Soul II Soul,
Todd Rundgren,
Lou Christie,
8 Eyed Spy,
Suburban Knight,
Laurel Aitken,
The Smoke,
Whodini,
Gastr Del Sol,
Traffic Nightmare,
Slick Rick,
cv313,
Steve Hackett,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Stooges,
Maleditus Sound,
Pylon,
Magma,
Saccharine Trust,
Sonic Youth,
Pantytec,
Siglo XX,
Patti Smith,
Jacques Brel,
Mark Hollis,
Excepter,
Rakim,
Connie Case,
Morten Harket,
Joey Negro,
48th St. Collective,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Radiohead,
10cc,
Negative Approach,
Crispy Ambulance,
Scott Walker,
UT,
Flash Fearless,
Johnny Osbourne,
Intrusion,
Rufus Thomas,
Popol Vuh,
Radiopuhelimet,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Arab on Radar,
Royal Trux,
The Residents,
The Selecter,
Marc Almond,
Sam Rivers,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.