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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bobby Byrd to the funk 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Organ tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Livin' Joy 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Axelrod record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
Babytalk,
Bill Wells,
Fear,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Electric Prunes,
The Sound,
Colin Newman,
Depeche Mode,
The Zeros,
Groovy Waters,
OOIOO,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Drexciya,
Nils Olav,
Soulsonic Force,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Banda Bassotti,
ABBA,
The Divine Comedy,
B.T. Express,
Glambeats Corp.,
Nico,
Prince Buster,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Selecter,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Mars,
Unwound,
Hashim,
Joey Negro,
Archie Shepp,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Dirtbombs,
Connie Case,
Lalann,
The Remains,
Bronski Beat,
The Gories,
Boogie Down Productions,
Parry Music,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Liliput,
Audionom,
The Motions,
Charles Mingus,
CMW,
Alice Coltrane,
The Gun Club,
The Velvet Underground,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rakim,
Von Mondo,
Lower 48,
Pagans,
Oblivians,
Reuben Wilson,
Essential Logic,
The Busters,
The Wake,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.