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 Hong Kong.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 rhodes 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 Scrapy 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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
Bang On A Can,
Magazine,
F. McDonald,
The Golliwogs,
Gang Starr,
The Black Dice,
Lungfish,
Charles Mingus,
Bad Manners,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Beau Brummels,
Half Japanese,
Intrusion,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ituana,
Rosa Yemen,
Blossom Toes,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Echospace,
Dawn Penn,
Jeff Mills,
Piero Umiliani,
Barry Ungar,
OOIOO,
Rufus Thomas,
La Düsseldorf,
Archie Shepp,
The Monochrome Set,
Con Funk Shun,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Adolescents,
The New Christs,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Aaron Thompson,
Anakelly,
The Names,
Agitation Free,
Malaria!,
Stiv Bators,
Warren Ellis,
Chrome,
FM Einheit,
The Five Americans,
Yellowson,
Eve St. Jones,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Moody Blues,
Sam Rivers,
The Invisible,
New Age Steppers,
Rotary Connection,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Prince Buster,
Fad Gadget,
The Dirtbombs,
Qualms,
The Slackers,
Fluxion,
Todd Rundgren,
Ludus,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.