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 Equatorial Guinea and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Barclay James Harvest to the jazz 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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Joe Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dorothy Ashby record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
Brass Construction,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Toasters,
Suicide,
Sexual Harrassment,
Alton Ellis,
Ultravox,
Average White Band,
cv313,
Kevin Saunderson,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jacob Miller,
Frankie Knuckles,
R.M.O.,
Todd Rundgren,
The Raincoats,
Intrusion,
John Cale,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lou Reed,
Ralphi Rosario,
EPMD,
Faraquet,
Dorothy Ashby,
Iggy Pop,
The Leaves,
Au Pairs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Avey Tare,
Stockholm Monsters,
E-Dancer,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Crispian St. Peters,
In Retrospect,
Metal Thangz,
Aaron Thompson,
The Knickerbockers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Mars,
Heaven 17,
Drexciya,
Traffic Nightmare,
Peter and Kerry,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Happenings,
Moby Grape,
Scientists,
Barrington Levy,
Brand Nubian,
The Stooges,
Amazonics,
Organ,
Boz Scaggs,
Glenn Branca,
Visage,
Ronnie Foster,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.