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 Iran and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Copenhagen.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
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 Crime to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 This Heat. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
FM Einheit,
Ten City,
Ohio Players,
Brass Construction,
Radio Birdman,
Trumans Water,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Shuggie Otis,
Soft Cell,
Roxette,
Funkadelic,
The Last Poets,
Porter Ricks,
F. McDonald,
Gabor Szabo,
the Fania All-Stars,
Matthew Bourne,
Piero Umiliani,
Barbara Tucker,
Electric Prunes,
Sun City Girls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Skriet,
Guru Guru,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Public Enemy,
Ronnie Foster,
Ice-T,
Fugazi,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
K-Klass,
Sexual Harrassment,
ABC,
Davy DMX,
Rosa Yemen,
These Immortal Souls,
Swans,
The Index,
The Martian,
Crispian St. Peters,
Kayak,
Avey Tare,
Radiopuhelimet,
Peter and Kerry,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lower 48,
Prince Buster,
The Human League,
The Buckinghams,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Derrick Morgan,
World's Most,
Eurythmics,
the Association,
Funky Four + One,
Jerry's Kids,
Icehouse,
D'Angelo,
Marcia Griffiths,
Smog,
The Residents,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.