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 Ethiopia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Soft Machine to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Fortunes. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
FM Einheit,
Tres Demented,
Prince Buster,
the Fania All-Stars,
Funky Four + One,
Nas,
Y Pants,
Minny Pops,
Eric Dolphy,
R.M.O.,
Scratch Acid,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Banda Bassotti,
Marmalade,
Rosa Yemen,
Kerri Chandler,
Mandrill,
Swell Maps,
Marine Girls,
Kas Product,
Yellowson,
The Index,
The Divine Comedy,
Lou Christie,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sex Pistols,
Lightning Bolt,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Tommy Roe,
Byron Stingily,
The Electric Prunes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Von Mondo,
Brand Nubian,
Ponytail,
48th St. Collective,
Crime,
Dawn Penn,
Amon Düül,
Unrelated Segments,
Talk Talk,
EPMD,
The Martian,
Con Funk Shun,
JFA,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Dual Sessions,
Pierre Henry,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ten City,
Jacob Miller,
Marc Almond,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ronnie Foster,
Grauzone,
B.T. Express,
Rekid,
Eli Mardock,
One Last Wish,
Roger Hodgson,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.