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 Mozambique and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Cymande to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Banda Bassotti. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mad Mike record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dennis Brown,
Pharoah Sanders,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The United States of America,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Susan Cadogan,
DJ Style,
DJ Sneak,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Flash Fearless,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pagans,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tropical Tobacco,
Mission of Burma,
Charles Mingus,
Hasil Adkins,
Archie Shepp,
Byron Stingily,
Glenn Branca,
Gang of Four,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
E-Dancer,
Roxy Music,
Faraquet,
Country Teasers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Y Pants,
Ossler,
Jeff Lynne,
Cheater Slicks,
Animal Collective,
Tomorrow,
Fear,
the Sonics,
Mo-Dettes,
This Heat,
Drive Like Jehu,
Erykah Badu,
Nas,
Pylon,
Dead Boys,
Soft Machine,
Babytalk,
Wasted Youth,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Kerri Chandler,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Nico,
Nils Olav,
Barrington Levy,
Skriet,
The Fire Engines,
Lower 48,
a-ha,
The Slits,
Von Mondo,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.