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 Qatar and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 Milan and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 Severed Heads to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Popol Vuh record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
Althea and Donna,
Ken Boothe,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Slackers,
Erykah Badu,
MDC,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Dead C,
Masters at Work,
Ituana,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Techniques,
Intrusion,
Warsaw,
The Real Kids,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Cramps,
Barrington Levy,
Silicon Teens,
Kool Moe Dee,
Soft Machine,
H. Thieme,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Oneida,
Inner City,
Duran Duran,
The Tremeloes,
Kevin Saunderson,
Marmalade,
L. Decosne,
Yellowson,
The Searchers,
The Neon Judgement,
Infiniti,
Little Man,
Malaria!,
The Vogues,
The Skatalites,
AZ,
Simply Red,
Blake Baxter,
Funky Four + One,
Shuggie Otis,
Leonard Cohen,
Hashim,
Urselle,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Eric B and Rakim,
DJ Style,
John Lydon,
Peter and Kerry,
Iggy Pop,
Deepchord,
Cecil Taylor,
Lower 48,
Average White Band,
Mark Hollis,
Siglo XX,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.