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 United States and from Glasgow.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Boogie Down Productions to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All Model 500 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
Crooked Eye,
Buzzcocks,
Ossler,
Moby Grape,
Fad Gadget,
Barbara Tucker,
The Move,
The Velvet Underground,
The United States of America,
Magazine,
FM Einheit,
Shuggie Otis,
Bronski Beat,
DJ Style,
Dorothy Ashby,
David McCallum,
Traffic Nightmare,
The American Breed,
The Gladiators,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Last Poets,
Rod Modell,
Funkadelic,
a-ha,
Janne Schatter,
The Smoke,
Donny Hathaway,
The Techniques,
Lou Reed,
Eyeless In Gaza,
James Chance & The Contortions,
DJ Sneak,
The Star Department,
Sexual Harrassment,
UT,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jeru the Damaja,
Barrington Levy,
Bill Near,
Jawbox,
Ultra Naté,
The Birthday Party,
Brand Nubian,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Von Mondo,
Monolake,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Real Kids,
Tropical Tobacco,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gang of Four,
Flipper,
Joyce Sims,
Robert Görl,
Thompson Twins,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Colin Newman,
ABBA,
Schoolly D,
The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column.
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.