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 China and from Bremen.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the disco 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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
the Germs,
The Blackbyrds,
Quantec,
Popol Vuh,
Toni Rubio,
John Coltrane,
Dual Sessions,
Chrome,
Pussy Galore,
Deadbeat,
Graham Central Station,
Marcia Griffiths,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Star Department,
Sister Nancy,
EPMD,
K-Klass,
Amon Düül II,
The Wake,
The Durutti Column,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Magma,
Don Cherry,
T.S.O.L.,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Monks,
Symarip,
Pole,
Panda Bear,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sun City Girls,
The Motions,
Dawn Penn,
Marmalade,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Duran Duran,
Talk Talk,
Pere Ubu,
Erasure,
Can,
Agitation Free,
Chris & Cosey,
Scrapy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Amazonics,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
CMW,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Skaos,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Crime,
Chris Corsano,
Cheater Slicks,
Massinfluence,
the Slits,
Black Flag,
Sexual Harrassment,
Desert Stars,
Bronski Beat,
D'Angelo,
Hashim,
Radiohead,
Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster.
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.