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 Togo and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Five Americans to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Vainqueur. All the underground hits.
All Hasil Adkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cecil Taylor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
Crispian St. Peters,
Yaz,
Index,
The Happenings,
Deadbeat,
Technova,
These Immortal Souls,
CMW,
Black Pus,
The Residents,
Al Stewart,
The Martian,
The Barracudas,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Vladislav Delay,
Cymande,
Pantaleimon,
Laurel Aitken,
Nas,
Barry Ungar,
Johnny Osbourne,
This Heat,
Public Enemy,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Joe Smooth,
Freddie Wadling,
Fugazi,
L. Decosne,
Reagan Youth,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Swans,
Bluetip,
The Beau Brummels,
The Saints,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
June of 44,
Second Layer,
Carl Craig,
Eyeless In Gaza,
DJ Sneak,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Knickerbockers,
a-ha,
The Cure,
Throbbing Gristle,
Dawn Penn,
Procol Harum,
Unwound,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Fela Kuti,
Alton Ellis,
Soul Sonic Force,
Flash Fearless,
The Tremeloes,
The Kinks,
Eric Copeland,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Aaron Thompson,
Minnie Riperton,
Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons.
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.