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 Niger and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the theremin 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 Half Japanese to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heavy D & The Boyz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
The Fugs,
Minnie Riperton,
The Last Poets,
Ice-T,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Slackers,
Skaos,
Dual Sessions,
The United States of America,
Absolute Body Control,
Deepchord,
Janne Schatter,
John Cale,
Quantec,
Masters at Work,
Saccharine Trust,
Terry Callier,
Swans,
B.T. Express,
Moss Icon,
These Immortal Souls,
Alice Coltrane,
Japan,
Lakeside,
The Gun Club,
Rekid,
The Motions,
Letta Mbulu,
Faraquet,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Five Americans,
Basic Channel,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marvin Gaye,
Lyres,
DJ Style,
Depeche Mode,
Section 25,
Boredoms,
Khruangbin,
Wally Richardson,
The Remains,
Clear Light,
Nas,
Suicide,
Ornette Coleman,
Sex Pistols,
Marmalade,
Rakim,
Dorothy Ashby,
Soft Machine,
Joe Finger,
This Heat,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Harry Pussy,
LL Cool J,
Easy Going,
Lightning Bolt,
The Stooges,
Crispy Ambulance,
Icehouse,
The Moody Blues,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.