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 Uzbekistan and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 organ 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the crunk 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 Skriet. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scan 7 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jimmy McGriff record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lungfish,
Judy Mowatt,
Fela Kuti,
Livin' Joy,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Slits,
Boz Scaggs,
Schoolly D,
Fluxion,
The Cure,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Gladiators,
Stereo Dub,
DJ Sneak,
In Retrospect,
Suburban Knight,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Curtis Mayfield,
Yellowson,
Cameo,
Eve St. Jones,
Absolute Body Control,
Ornette Coleman,
D'Angelo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Mummies,
The Move,
Trumans Water,
Nico,
June of 44,
Intrusion,
Can,
Faust,
the Normal,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Minny Pops,
The Smoke,
Buzzcocks,
Max Romeo,
Duran Duran,
Crash Course in Science,
A Certain Ratio,
Cluster,
Quando Quango,
The Fall,
Kool Moe Dee,
Nirvana,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Fifty Foot Hose,
R.M.O.,
Bronski Beat,
Japan,
Groovy Waters,
New Age Steppers,
Bush Tetras,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Andrew Hill,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rufus Thomas,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.