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 Uruguay and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
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 Rapeman to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Bananas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
Roy Ayers,
Reagan Youth,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Al Stewart,
Toni Rubio,
The Star Department,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Robert Wyatt,
John Holt,
Quando Quango,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Magma,
Juan Atkins,
Lebanon Hanover,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Michelle Simonal,
Chrome,
Sexual Harrassment,
JFA,
Rotary Connection,
Angry Samoans,
Sonny Sharrock,
Khruangbin,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Barclay James Harvest,
Heaven 17,
John Coltrane,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lou Christie,
Slave,
Harmonia,
The Slackers,
the Normal,
The Fortunes,
The Dead C,
Fluxion,
Ken Boothe,
The Tremeloes,
Todd Terry,
Crooked Eye,
Stereo Dub,
Eve St. Jones,
Livin' Joy,
New York Dolls,
Gang Green,
The Gories,
Mr. Review,
Darondo,
Malaria!,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Grandmaster Flash,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Matthew Halsall,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Mummies,
Lou Reed,
Lyres,
Ronnie Foster,
Todd Rundgren,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282.
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.