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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Bremen.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and London.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Smog to the techno 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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All The Mummies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shoche record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
Cecil Taylor,
the Sonics,
AZ,
Ken Boothe,
The Zeros,
Radiopuhelimet,
Niagra,
Livin' Joy,
The Gap Band,
The Young Rascals,
Piero Umiliani,
Ronnie Foster,
Malaria!,
Nik Kershaw,
Iggy Pop,
Bootsy Collins,
Boogie Down Productions,
Spandau Ballet,
The Five Americans,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Avey Tare,
Jeru the Damaja,
Arab on Radar,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Mr. Review,
Minor Threat,
Arthur Verocai,
Deakin,
Porter Ricks,
DNA,
Bobby Byrd,
Davy DMX,
Delon & Dalcan,
Rapeman,
Tears for Fears,
Toni Rubio,
Skriet,
Procol Harum,
The Pop Group,
Aloha Tigers,
Joy Division,
F. McDonald,
Dawn Penn,
Roger Hodgson,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bang On A Can,
Darondo,
Kurtis Blow,
John Holt,
Fad Gadget,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lungfish,
The Fall,
the Bar-Kays,
Ultravox,
Pharoah Sanders,
Magazine,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.