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 Morocco and from Tokyo.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the marimba 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 Sällskapet to the techno 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 Rekid. All the underground hits.
All The Barracudas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
James White and The Blacks,
Mr. Review,
Yellowson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Soft Cell,
Ponytail,
Wire,
June of 44,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Stereo Dub,
Neu!,
The Names,
Average White Band,
Black Pus,
Q65,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Brothers Johnson,
The Human League,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Monks,
AZ,
Stiv Bators,
Fluxion,
Groovy Waters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Warsaw,
Darondo,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Todd Rundgren,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Offenders,
Letta Mbulu,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
DJ Style,
Das Ding,
Dennis Brown,
The Monochrome Set,
Rakim,
Goldenarms,
Yazoo,
The Pop Group,
Moss Icon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Anthony Braxton,
Drive Like Jehu,
Jeff Mills,
Anakelly,
Silicon Teens,
Pharoah Sanders,
Boz Scaggs,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Tres Demented,
Leonard Cohen,
the Germs,
Avey Tare,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.