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 Ghana and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Cramps to the disco 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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All New Age Steppers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dual Sessions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
Mo-Dettes,
Schoolly D,
Talk Talk,
Ornette Coleman,
Donald Byrd,
Delta 5,
Jesper Dahlback,
This Heat,
Malaria!,
The Count Five,
David Axelrod,
Faraquet,
10cc,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bob Dylan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Joe Finger,
Brass Construction,
Infiniti,
Sugar Minott,
Jimmy McGriff,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Tremeloes,
The Wake,
The Young Rascals,
Ohio Players,
Skarface,
The Pop Group,
Bang On A Can,
La Düsseldorf,
Pylon,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bush Tetras,
Negative Approach,
The Velvet Underground,
Little Man,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Johnny Clarke,
The Pretty Things,
The Searchers,
Minnie Riperton,
The Gladiators,
Fluxion,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ponytail,
Avey Tare,
The Move,
X-102,
B.T. Express,
Colin Newman,
Crooked Eye,
Reuben Wilson,
E-Dancer,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Sonics,
Harmonia,
The Real Kids,
The Techniques,
Pussy Galore,
Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids.
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.