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 Algeria and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the organ 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 Nation of Ulysses to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Supertramp. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joensuu 1685 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott Heron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin 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 Skatalites,
Kenny Larkin,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Das Ding,
Mars,
Joensuu 1685,
Soft Cell,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Barclay James Harvest,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Matthew Halsall,
Banda Bassotti,
Y Pants,
Arab on Radar,
The Fugs,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Golliwogs,
Donny Hathaway,
The Standells,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Searchers,
Terry Callier,
Jacob Miller,
Bush Tetras,
Steve Hackett,
Dark Day,
Pierre Henry,
KRS-One,
Drexciya,
Zapp,
Chris & Cosey,
Suicide,
Swans,
Scientists,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
James White and The Blacks,
kango's stein massive,
Stereo Dub,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sun City Girls,
Warren Ellis,
Sparks,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Robert Hood,
The Raincoats,
This Heat,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Nas,
Von Mondo,
The Count Five,
Bobby Sherman,
Kurtis Blow,
Rotary Connection,
The Gories,
Crash Course in Science,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Happenings,
The Zeros,
Idris Muhammad,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Residents,
Sarah Menescal,
The Smiths,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.