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 Spokane.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Jakarta.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the organ 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 Cybotron to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Q and Not U. All the underground hits.
All Trumans Water tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blake Baxter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
Joey Negro,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
One Last Wish,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kool Moe Dee,
Subhumans,
Byron Stingily,
Absolute Body Control,
Black Pus,
Scan 7,
Stetsasonic,
Joy Division,
Saccharine Trust,
Metal Thangz,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Durutti Column,
the Fania All-Stars,
Unwound,
Idris Muhammad,
Dead Boys,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Terrestrial Tones,
David McCallum,
Sonic Youth,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Davy DMX,
DJ Style,
Bush Tetras,
Wire,
Deakin,
Yaz,
Rosa Yemen,
Ten City,
Kerrie Biddell,
Deadbeat,
Warren Ellis,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Wasted Youth,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Steve Hackett,
Rakim,
Au Pairs,
Nirvana,
PIL,
the Germs,
The Litter,
Surgeon,
Barry Ungar,
Pet Shop Boys,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Flipper,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Alton Ellis,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Brothers Johnson,
Black Flag,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rhythm & Sound,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.