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 Botswana and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Shuggie Otis to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
Deadbeat,
Ludus,
Popol Vuh,
Newcleus,
Ultravox,
DJ Style,
The Blues Magoos,
Nation of Ulysses,
Cluster,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Brothers Johnson,
The Zeros,
Gong,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Fatback Band,
Boogie Down Productions,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sällskapet,
Lou Reed,
Sun City Girls,
the Association,
Grandmaster Flash,
Yaz,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Laurel Aitken,
Ornette Coleman,
Shoche,
Electric Prunes,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Raincoats,
Peter & Gordon,
Drive Like Jehu,
Dawn Penn,
The Toasters,
Ponytail,
Graham Central Station,
Arab on Radar,
X-102,
Marvin Gaye,
Charles Mingus,
The Leaves,
Young Marble Giants,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Steve Hackett,
ABC,
Jeru the Damaja,
Cymande,
Erasure,
the Slits,
Morten Harket,
Flamin' Groovies,
Malaria!,
Moby Grape,
New York Dolls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eric Dolphy,
Babytalk,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.