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 Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 The Vogues to the funk 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 Toni Rubio. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pylon,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Erykah Badu,
Spandau Ballet,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Beau Brummels,
Sparks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Patti Smith,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pantytec,
The Leaves,
The Pop Group,
Eric B and Rakim,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Shoche,
Ornette Coleman,
H. Thieme,
Tom Boy,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gastr Del Sol,
10cc,
Amazonics,
Girls At Our Best!,
Cymande,
The Names,
The Doors,
Lou Christie,
Angry Samoans,
Sister Nancy,
Severed Heads,
OOIOO,
Kenny Larkin,
John Cale,
Supertramp,
The Stooges,
Al Stewart,
DNA,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Standells,
The Selecter,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Slackers,
Agent Orange,
Darondo,
The Birthday Party,
Lakeside,
Gong,
The Busters,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Quantec,
Banda Bassotti,
Throbbing Gristle,
Visage,
Thee Headcoats,
48th St. Collective,
Fatback Band,
DJ Style,
DJ Sneak,
Carl Craig,
Joensuu 1685,
Babytalk,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.