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 Iraq and from Salvador.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Spokane.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the sitar 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 Man Eating Sloth to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All World's Most tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aloha Tigers,
Eric Dolphy,
Eli Mardock,
Sun City Girls,
Franke,
Pylon,
Deakin,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Model 500,
Ultra Naté,
Black Pus,
China Crisis,
L. Decosne,
Archie Shepp,
Bill Wells,
EPMD,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Spoonie Gee,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Peter and Kerry,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bronski Beat,
Ultimate Spinach,
Q65,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Monochrome Set,
Howard Jones,
The Kinks,
The Residents,
Tropical Tobacco,
The United States of America,
Toni Rubio,
Motorama,
the Normal,
Popol Vuh,
The Cure,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Scan 7,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The J.B.'s,
Erykah Badu,
The Divine Comedy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Hasil Adkins,
Make Up,
Jeff Mills,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Blues Magoos,
Bobby Womack,
Morten Harket,
Visage,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Smiths,
the Bar-Kays,
Whodini,
Main Source,
Funky Four + One,
Essential Logic,
These Immortal Souls,
The Angels of Light,
The Fall,
Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez.
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.