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 Singapore and from Beijing.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Wings to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 the Normal. All the underground hits.
All Yaz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Sound Behaviour,
Royal Trux,
Arcadia,
Kerri Chandler,
Absolute Body Control,
Joe Finger,
John Coltrane,
Quantec,
Suicide,
Quadrant,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rites of Spring,
Barbara Tucker,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Desert Stars,
Ice-T,
Surgeon,
The Monks,
D'Angelo,
The Monochrome Set,
Technova,
kango's stein massive,
The Young Rascals,
Lakeside,
The Five Americans,
Second Layer,
X-101,
Yazoo,
Hardrive,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
In Retrospect,
Ralphi Rosario,
Byron Stingily,
Harry Pussy,
Lungfish,
John Cale,
Intrusion,
the Bar-Kays,
Tropical Tobacco,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
K-Klass,
Crooked Eye,
Jeru the Damaja,
Hasil Adkins,
Anthony Braxton,
Chris Corsano,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Funky Four + One,
The Music Machine,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kool Moe Dee,
Max Romeo,
The Selecter,
Faust,
Fluxion,
Graham Central Station,
DJ Style,
Theoretical Girls,
Judy Mowatt,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.