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 Dominica and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 rhodes 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 J.B.'s to the punk 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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All The Barracudas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
Metal Thangz,
Ultra Naté,
Soul II Soul,
ABC,
Sun Ra,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kurtis Blow,
the Normal,
Johnny Osbourne,
B.T. Express,
Carl Craig,
The Victims,
The Martian,
Chrome,
Sandy B,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Yazoo,
Deadbeat,
Bauhaus,
Electric Prunes,
Stiv Bators,
Roger Hodgson,
Donny Hathaway,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Smog,
Throbbing Gristle,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Excepter,
Q and Not U,
Mission of Burma,
JFA,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The American Breed,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jacob Miller,
Mantronix,
Eurythmics,
Pantaleimon,
Isaac Hayes,
Moby Grape,
Theoretical Girls,
U.S. Maple,
Gichy Dan,
The Doors,
Radiopuhelimet,
Eden Ahbez,
Reuben Wilson,
Letta Mbulu,
The Young Rascals,
Crash Course in Science,
Minny Pops,
Crispy Ambulance,
Susan Cadogan,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jacques Brel,
The Standells,
Brick,
Easy Going,
Bobby Byrd,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.