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 Malaysia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 mellotron 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 June Days to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Clarke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yazoo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet 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?
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Supertramp,
Jacques Brel,
Bluetip,
Minutemen,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Stooges,
Faraquet,
Symarip,
The Wake,
Dawn Penn,
the Association,
Dennis Brown,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Connie Case,
Pantytec,
John Cale,
The Fire Engines,
Chrome,
Gong,
Subhumans,
Model 500,
Rosa Yemen,
Icehouse,
Crooked Eye,
Amazonics,
Public Enemy,
Dave Gahan,
Television,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
DJ Style,
Roger Hodgson,
Delta 5,
Jesper Dahlback,
Slick Rick,
Fluxion,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pere Ubu,
Fat Boys,
Iggy Pop,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
In Retrospect,
Susan Cadogan,
Boredoms,
Bobby Byrd,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nico,
Bob Dylan,
Junior Murvin,
The Gories,
Ken Boothe,
Robert Hood,
The Sonics,
Radiohead,
Rites of Spring,
The Leaves,
T.S.O.L.,
Vainqueur,
The Motions,
Kurtis Blow,
The Index,
Flash Fearless,
Lucky Dragons,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.