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 Namibia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 F. McDonald to the funk 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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Yellowson,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Charles Mingus,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Seeds,
The Victims,
Malaria!,
T. Rex,
Sex Pistols,
Main Source,
Prince Buster,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jeff Lynne,
Howard Jones,
Wire,
The Gap Band,
Terry Callier,
Joey Negro,
Television Personalities,
Johnny Clarke,
Juan Atkins,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
June of 44,
Severed Heads,
Albert Ayler,
Black Pus,
Brand Nubian,
Sun City Girls,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ten City,
Public Image Ltd.,
Rekid,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
DJ Style,
Jimmy McGriff,
This Heat,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Warren Ellis,
Eli Mardock,
Cymande,
Section 25,
Rosa Yemen,
David Axelrod,
Subhumans,
Audionom,
FM Einheit,
Danielle Patucci,
The Mojo Men,
Archie Shepp,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Fall,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Don Cherry,
Can,
Neil Young,
Stetsasonic,
Tropical Tobacco,
Leonard Cohen,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sam Rivers,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.