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 Pakistan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 rhodes 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 Marvin Gaye to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every One Last Wish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Freddie Wadling 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?
The Busters,
Tom Boy,
Niagra,
Japan,
Andrew Hill,
Pussy Galore,
Peter & Gordon,
Second Layer,
Patti Smith,
Slick Rick,
The Fall,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
10cc,
Amon Düül II,
Bluetip,
The Selecter,
Urselle,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Infiniti,
The Angels of Light,
Groovy Waters,
DJ Style,
DNA,
Marmalade,
Sparks,
Bauhaus,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Leaves,
Brass Construction,
Gabor Szabo,
The Vogues,
Curtis Mayfield,
Unrelated Segments,
Bob Dylan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
UT,
Masters at Work,
Moss Icon,
Maleditus Sound,
the Human League,
Jimmy McGriff,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Divine Comedy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
a-ha,
MDC,
The Happenings,
The Monks,
Popol Vuh,
Tres Demented,
Black Moon,
Connie Case,
Smog,
Ralphi Rosario,
Donny Hathaway,
Stiv Bators,
Agitation Free,
Cymande,
Fear,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.