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 Finland and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 Sao Paulo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Holger Czukay 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 Khruangbin to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yaz 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Zeros,
Yazoo,
Black Bananas,
Joy Division,
Sonny Sharrock,
Mark Hollis,
DNA,
Arcadia,
Freddie Wadling,
Eli Mardock,
Barbara Tucker,
Ohio Players,
Severed Heads,
Rapeman,
Bobby Byrd,
The Sonics,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Black Flag,
Roy Ayers,
Quantec,
Flamin' Groovies,
Lalo Schifrin,
Wings,
UT,
Donny Hathaway,
Wire,
Bill Near,
Pagans,
Television,
David Axelrod,
Camouflage,
Absolute Body Control,
Harry Pussy,
The Human League,
Massinfluence,
Gastr Del Sol,
Cameo,
Mission of Burma,
Stetsasonic,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Cosmic Jokers,
China Crisis,
Sister Nancy,
Sandy B,
John Foxx,
Godley & Creme,
Ten City,
Thompson Twins,
Jeru the Damaja,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ossler,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Talk Talk,
The Vogues,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Whodini,
X-Ray Spex,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.