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 Moldova and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 spring reverb 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 Kurtis Blow to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerri Chandler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
The Litter,
Don Cherry,
Alphaville,
The Fall,
Con Funk Shun,
The Fuzztones,
Sex Pistols,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Avey Tare,
Tim Buckley,
Radio Birdman,
The Detroit Cobras,
Frankie Knuckles,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
the Association,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bill Wells,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eric Copeland,
Television Personalities,
Infiniti,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bad Manners,
Fluxion,
John Foxx,
Gabor Szabo,
Dorothy Ashby,
Dave Gahan,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Lindisfarne,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Kerrie Biddell,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Juan Atkins,
Barclay James Harvest,
Wasted Youth,
Camouflage,
a-ha,
Crispy Ambulance,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ituana,
Arcadia,
Anthony Braxton,
Moss Icon,
Gang Gang Dance,
Goldenarms,
Unrelated Segments,
Soulsonic Force,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Smoke,
The Golliwogs,
Tomorrow,
EPMD,
Minutemen,
Ultra Naté,
Bronski Beat,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.