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 Turkmenistan and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 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 X-102 to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joey Negro record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yaz,
Gong,
Lalo Schifrin,
Accadde A,
Bang On A Can,
The Detroit Cobras,
Hasil Adkins,
Adolescents,
Clear Light,
Wasted Youth,
Youth Brigade,
Unrelated Segments,
Wire,
CMW,
Robert Hood,
Livin' Joy,
Slave,
World's Most,
Kurtis Blow,
Don Cherry,
Suicide,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lyres,
Marine Girls,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Oneida,
the Bar-Kays,
Sex Pistols,
Sixth Finger,
Rekid,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Isaac Hayes,
John Coltrane,
Newcleus,
Laurel Aitken,
Mars,
LL Cool J,
Underground Resistance,
Fela Kuti,
Scan 7,
Magma,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Smoke,
Drexciya,
Basic Channel,
Althea and Donna,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ossler,
Yazoo,
Toni Rubio,
Sister Nancy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Reagan Youth,
Trumans Water,
Colin Newman,
Theoretical Girls,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Panda Bear,
Gichy Dan,
Deakin,
Tears for Fears,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.