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 Liechtenstein and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 mellotron 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 The Raincoats to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All DNA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Junior Murvin,
Idris Muhammad,
Ice-T,
Swell Maps,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Wolf Eyes,
Bang On A Can,
Malaria!,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Swans,
Isaac Hayes,
the Sonics,
The Associates,
Unwound,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Cecil Taylor,
The Fortunes,
The Last Poets,
Cheater Slicks,
Tubeway Army,
Arthur Verocai,
A Certain Ratio,
Mars,
Derrick Morgan,
Soul Sonic Force,
Shuggie Otis,
Electric Prunes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Boz Scaggs,
Sun City Girls,
Marvin Gaye,
Angry Samoans,
Eddi Front,
Los Fastidios,
Jandek,
John Cale,
MDC,
Can,
Fear,
Cal Tjader,
Porter Ricks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Misunderstood,
John Holt,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sällskapet,
Nirvana,
The Cowsills,
Bobby Byrd,
Judy Mowatt,
Wasted Youth,
Rekid,
Barrington Levy,
The Divine Comedy,
Grauzone,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Cramps,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.