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 Botswana and from Lyon.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Godley & Creme to the jazz 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun City Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints 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?
Eric Dolphy,
Skarface,
Porter Ricks,
These Immortal Souls,
The Gap Band,
The Gories,
Joy Division,
Wire,
Lower 48,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Joe Smooth,
the Association,
Jerry's Kids,
In Retrospect,
Gerry Rafferty,
Aural Exciters,
Scion,
Ituana,
One Last Wish,
Faraquet,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ken Boothe,
Popol Vuh,
Derrick May,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Camouflage,
Eric B and Rakim,
FM Einheit,
Deepchord,
The Alarm Clocks,
Khruangbin,
John Cale,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sun Ra,
Eddi Front,
Morten Harket,
The Index,
A Certain Ratio,
Mantronix,
Siglo XX,
H. Thieme,
Motorama,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Howard Jones,
the Fania All-Stars,
Suicide,
Reagan Youth,
Visage,
Sun City Girls,
Saccharine Trust,
Dave Gahan,
Pylon,
Ludus,
Amon Düül II,
Blossom Toes,
The Saints,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Avey Tare,
Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control.
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.