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 Liberia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Loose Ends to the dance 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 Associates. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
the Fania All-Stars,
Con Funk Shun,
Albert Ayler,
Sex Pistols,
Mandrill,
The Black Dice,
Max Romeo,
Q and Not U,
Circle Jerks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Eric Copeland,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Marmalade,
Bang On A Can,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Index,
Soul II Soul,
June of 44,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Patti Smith,
Freddie Wadling,
Steve Hackett,
Robert Görl,
Ornette Coleman,
Section 25,
The Busters,
Anakelly,
Derrick Morgan,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lungfish,
Model 500,
48th St. Collective,
Underground Resistance,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Babytalk,
Piero Umiliani,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Guru Guru,
Wings,
Crash Course in Science,
The Fire Engines,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
D'Angelo,
Tommy Roe,
Panda Bear,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Soulsonic Force,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Litter,
Quantec,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Offenders,
Pantaleimon,
The Skatalites,
Erasure,
Sonic Youth,
Jacques Brel,
Lakeside,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
John Lydon,
Vainqueur,
Lou Reed,
Ituana,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.