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 Cameroon and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Delhi.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Martian to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All Don Cherry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cybotron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
Lyres,
Vainqueur,
Sound Behaviour,
Brothers Johnson,
Lindisfarne,
Amon Düül,
The Sound,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Anthony Braxton,
Wire,
Slick Rick,
Newcleus,
Minnie Riperton,
Drexciya,
James White and The Blacks,
Dead Boys,
The Knickerbockers,
DJ Sneak,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Moody Blues,
Rapeman,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Toasters,
Thompson Twins,
Tears for Fears,
The Velvet Underground,
Erykah Badu,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
U.S. Maple,
The Stooges,
Gregory Isaacs,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Charles Mingus,
Brass Construction,
the Germs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Marmalade,
Delon & Dalcan,
the Bar-Kays,
Wally Richardson,
Black Bananas,
Don Cherry,
Sonic Youth,
Unrelated Segments,
Harpers Bizarre,
Rufus Thomas,
Parry Music,
New York Dolls,
Janne Schatter,
Mad Mike,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Remains,
Nirvana,
Bill Near,
The Beau Brummels,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Panda Bear,
Fat Boys,
Jimmy McGriff,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Massinfluence,
Boz Scaggs,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.