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 India and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 arpeggiator 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 Swell Maps to the techno 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-102 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
The Vogues,
Make Up,
Circle Jerks,
Sällskapet,
Marc Almond,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Stetsasonic,
Minnie Riperton,
Iggy Pop,
Newcleus,
The Monochrome Set,
Darondo,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Japan,
Michelle Simonal,
Robert Hood,
Khruangbin,
The Velvet Underground,
the Human League,
Matthew Bourne,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Birthday Party,
Half Japanese,
The Invisible,
Smog,
FM Einheit,
Lou Reed,
Porter Ricks,
Index,
Mr. Review,
The Gun Club,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Crispy Ambulance,
Television,
In Retrospect,
The New Christs,
Boz Scaggs,
Kool Moe Dee,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Inner City,
Harmonia,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Mission of Burma,
Supertramp,
Jerry's Kids,
Skarface,
Blancmange,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Motions,
Anthony Braxton,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Kinks,
Barry Ungar,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ronan,
Moss Icon,
Scion,
New Age Steppers,
The Offenders,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.