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 Gabon and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Reuben Wilson to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Young Marble Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Schoolly D record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxy Music,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Joey Negro,
The Real Kids,
Grauzone,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Sound,
Moby Grape,
T. Rex,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Public Enemy,
Rites of Spring,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bobby Womack,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fugazi,
Babytalk,
World's Most,
Harmonia,
Lakeside,
X-Ray Spex,
Kayak,
Bang On A Can,
the Fania All-Stars,
Al Stewart,
DNA,
The Litter,
Kerrie Biddell,
Section 25,
Moss Icon,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Fortunes,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Jawbox,
Jerry's Kids,
The Seeds,
Minor Threat,
Judy Mowatt,
Con Funk Shun,
Brick,
Soft Machine,
Peter & Gordon,
Interpol,
The Knickerbockers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Robert Wyatt,
Anthony Braxton,
The Vogues,
the Germs,
The Five Americans,
Blossom Toes,
ABC,
Sonny Sharrock,
Black Bananas,
Loose Ends,
The Doobie Brothers,
a-ha,
Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim.
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.