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 Botswana and from Toronto.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Cal Tjader to the jazz 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 Rhythm & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Janne Schatter,
The Detroit Cobras,
Duran Duran,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lindisfarne,
Kenny Larkin,
The Leaves,
Eurythmics,
Graham Central Station,
Aural Exciters,
The Moleskins,
Lakeside,
Gregory Isaacs,
Isaac Hayes,
Wasted Youth,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pantytec,
the Slits,
Gang Starr,
Ornette Coleman,
The Slits,
Nick Fraelich,
Unrelated Segments,
Judy Mowatt,
New York Dolls,
Negative Approach,
Trumans Water,
Ronnie Foster,
Patti Smith,
Sixth Finger,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
John Holt,
The Cure,
Eve St. Jones,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Groovy Waters,
Youth Brigade,
Mandrill,
Davy DMX,
Kaleidoscope,
Crispian St. Peters,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rekid,
The Pretty Things,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Japan,
Popol Vuh,
Angry Samoans,
Sonic Youth,
Ultra Naté,
Sun Ra,
Rufus Thomas,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Fuzztones,
Frankie Knuckles,
Godley & Creme,
The Happenings,
the Association,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Walker Brothers,
Young Marble Giants,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.