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 Honduras and from Bologna.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Delta 5 to the rock 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 The Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
The Gladiators,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pet Shop Boys,
Public Image Ltd.,
Suicide,
Crispy Ambulance,
Porter Ricks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Cecil Taylor,
Judy Mowatt,
Iggy Pop,
Idris Muhammad,
R.M.O.,
The Mummies,
Alice Coltrane,
New Age Steppers,
Essential Logic,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Invisible,
Technova,
The Fire Engines,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Victims,
Soul II Soul,
Danielle Patucci,
Von Mondo,
China Crisis,
The J.B.'s,
The Seeds,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Theoretical Girls,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ituana,
Boredoms,
cv313,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ultimate Spinach,
Crispian St. Peters,
Kerri Chandler,
Barclay James Harvest,
Junior Murvin,
Monolake,
The Detroit Cobras,
Fear,
Eric B and Rakim,
Robert Hood,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Donny Hathaway,
Siglo XX,
The Alarm Clocks,
Spandau Ballet,
The Techniques,
New York Dolls,
CMW,
Electric Prunes,
The Sonics,
Harmonia,
Peter & Gordon,
The Motions, The Motions, The Motions, The Motions.
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.