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 Philippines and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Joyce Sims to the dance 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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All Jerry's Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare 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 marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Technova record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Terry,
Roy Ayers,
The Fire Engines,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pussy Galore,
Anthony Braxton,
Scratch Acid,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Jesper Dahlback,
Harry Pussy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Eve St. Jones,
Donald Byrd,
Second Layer,
Cymande,
Inner City,
Flipper,
Hoover,
Henry Cow,
Severed Heads,
Black Sheep,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Durutti Column,
Thompson Twins,
Jacques Brel,
Wings,
Andrew Hill,
Simply Red,
The Slackers,
La Düsseldorf,
The Star Department,
Barclay James Harvest,
CMW,
Gang Green,
L. Decosne,
Althea and Donna,
R.M.O.,
Rekid,
A Certain Ratio,
Scientists,
the Germs,
Archie Shepp,
Joensuu 1685,
Fat Boys,
the Bar-Kays,
Theoretical Girls,
T. Rex,
Bad Manners,
China Crisis,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Alice Coltrane,
Brick,
Kerri Chandler,
Organ,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Offenders,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Siglo XX,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Happenings,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.