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 Greece and from Portland.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Don Cherry to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delon & Dalcan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
The Fortunes,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Fuzztones,
Suburban Knight,
48th St. Collective,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
June Days,
UT,
The Music Machine,
The Smiths,
Eli Mardock,
Ludus,
Franke,
Buzzcocks,
The Seeds,
Khruangbin,
Donny Hathaway,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sällskapet,
Porter Ricks,
Letta Mbulu,
China Crisis,
Royal Trux,
U.S. Maple,
a-ha,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Black Dice,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Swell Maps,
Isaac Hayes,
Camberwell Now,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Cowsills,
Pantytec,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Colin Newman,
Quadrant,
L. Decosne,
Nation of Ulysses,
Scan 7,
Eric Copeland,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Masters at Work,
Procol Harum,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Trumans Water,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Country Teasers,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Last Poets,
The Birthday Party,
Blancmange,
Gichy Dan,
Girls At Our Best!,
Niagra,
The Angels of Light,
Pulsallama,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.