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 Uganda and from Hong Kong.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Johannesburg.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 B.T. Express to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Rundgren,
Monolake,
Fela Kuti,
DNA,
The Barracudas,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Velvet Underground,
Underground Resistance,
Brick,
Ornette Coleman,
The Stooges,
The Smoke,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Minnie Riperton,
Erasure,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Deadbeat,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Dawn Penn,
Bobby Byrd,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rod Modell,
Big Daddy Kane,
10cc,
Rosa Yemen,
Soul II Soul,
Boogie Down Productions,
Cybotron,
The Fortunes,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Crispy Ambulance,
Nation of Ulysses,
Susan Cadogan,
Unrelated Segments,
Surgeon,
Colin Newman,
Nirvana,
Donald Byrd,
Matthew Halsall,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Country Teasers,
Kool Moe Dee,
Alphaville,
Bill Near,
Suicide,
Infiniti,
Moby Grape,
Newcleus,
Quando Quango,
T.S.O.L.,
Archie Shepp,
The Kinks,
Yellowson,
Curtis Mayfield,
the Slits,
Vladislav Delay,
Khruangbin,
Deakin,
The Cramps,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lindisfarne,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.