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 Johannesburg.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sam Rivers to the crunk 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 Dennis Brown. All the underground hits.
All The Slackers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Terry 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cal Tjader,
Ten City,
cv313,
The Busters,
Ultravox,
Arcadia,
Kerrie Biddell,
Darondo,
Malaria!,
Harpers Bizarre,
Swell Maps,
Nation of Ulysses,
Black Moon,
Harry Pussy,
X-101,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ohio Players,
Steve Hackett,
The Star Department,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jandek,
Liliput,
Leonard Cohen,
CMW,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Associates,
DJ Sneak,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Magazine,
Shoche,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Buckinghams,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Todd Rundgren,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Human League,
Mad Mike,
Babytalk,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
James White and The Blacks,
Sällskapet,
Cymande,
Guru Guru,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ronnie Foster,
Neu!,
Rhythm & Sound,
Procol Harum,
The Wake,
KRS-One,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Susan Cadogan,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Minny Pops,
Crispian St. Peters,
Glambeats Corp.,
Deadbeat,
Nas,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
the Normal,
Pierre Henry,
Ralphi Rosario,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.