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 Armenia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 marimba 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 Banda Bassotti to the grime 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 Kenny Larkin. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yaz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun Ra Arkestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
The Angels of Light,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Qualms,
Rotary Connection,
Silicon Teens,
F. McDonald,
The Litter,
Carl Craig,
UT,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Kinks,
Panda Bear,
Mantronix,
Index,
Bluetip,
Roxette,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Red Krayola,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Procol Harum,
Gang Green,
Guru Guru,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Motions,
Rakim,
Pharoah Sanders,
Parry Music,
The Human League,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Invisible,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Dark Day,
Terry Callier,
the Human League,
The Blues Magoos,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
ABBA,
Fat Boys,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Model 500,
Mad Mike,
Interpol,
Sex Pistols,
Anakelly,
Eden Ahbez,
The Trojans,
Ronnie Foster,
Simply Red,
Circle Jerks,
Al Stewart,
Angry Samoans,
Slave,
Todd Rundgren,
Sam Rivers,
Oneida,
Mark Hollis,
Morten Harket,
Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane.
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.