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 Monaco and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Donald Fagen 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All The Invisible tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faraquet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
Pole,
Electric Prunes,
The Saints,
Eyeless In Gaza,
ABC,
Minor Threat,
Donald Byrd,
Man Eating Sloth,
T. Rex,
DJ Sneak,
Cabaret Voltaire,
the Swans,
New Order,
Nirvana,
The Happenings,
Grandmaster Flash,
Amon Düül,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Avey Tare,
Malaria!,
Aural Exciters,
Mantronix,
B.T. Express,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Barracudas,
Camouflage,
The Cowsills,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Parry Music,
Barrington Levy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Litter,
Arcadia,
Technova,
Buzzcocks,
Mark Hollis,
Swans,
Kool Moe Dee,
Mr. Review,
The J.B.'s,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lebanon Hanover,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Detroit Cobras,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lalann,
Ultra Naté,
Judy Mowatt,
Ohio Players,
The United States of America,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Zeros,
Donny Hathaway,
Magma,
The Associates,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nation of Ulysses,
Angry Samoans,
The Searchers,
Sixth Finger,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.