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 Lebanon and from Accra.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Donald Byrd to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Delon & Dalcan. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deepchord record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter & Gordon,
K-Klass,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Soft Cell,
Quadrant,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jawbox,
Alison Limerick,
Von Mondo,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Faust,
One Last Wish,
MDC,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Moebius,
Pere Ubu,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Black Pus,
Ornette Coleman,
Bauhaus,
The Last Poets,
Nirvana,
In Retrospect,
The Music Machine,
Pulsallama,
Parry Music,
Warsaw,
Yusef Lateef,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Visage,
Cameo,
Man Eating Sloth,
Saccharine Trust,
Bobby Byrd,
the Sonics,
Average White Band,
Joyce Sims,
Magazine,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Anthony Braxton,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rapeman,
Sight & Sound,
Blancmange,
Bizarre Inc.,
Shuggie Otis,
China Crisis,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Pretty Things,
Boredoms,
Max Romeo,
the Slits,
Robert Hood,
Jandek,
The Durutti Column,
Gang Green,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Skatalites,
The Cure,
Audionom,
The Martian,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.