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 Paraguay and from Portland.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Marcia Griffiths to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Depeche Mode record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Carl Craig record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
Altered Images,
Pierre Henry,
the Soft Cell,
Ronan,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Talk Talk,
Lungfish,
Bronski Beat,
Dead Boys,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
X-102,
Terry Callier,
Unwound,
Cluster,
Interpol,
Yusef Lateef,
Monks,
Deepchord,
The Fortunes,
Slave,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Crash Course in Science,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Angels of Light,
Aloha Tigers,
Rapeman,
Brick,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lower 48,
Minnie Riperton,
The Modern Lovers,
The Monochrome Set,
Fad Gadget,
Donald Byrd,
Todd Terry,
Frankie Knuckles,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Neil Young,
The Tremeloes,
Kurtis Blow,
The Moleskins,
Curtis Mayfield,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sarah Menescal,
Whodini,
Johnny Osbourne,
X-101,
Sandy B,
Jawbox,
Juan Atkins,
Alison Limerick,
Avey Tare,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
David McCallum,
Letta Mbulu,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Dark Day,
The Durutti Column,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.