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 Suriname and from Milan.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to the grunge 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 Second Layer. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
Inner City,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ken Boothe,
MC5,
the Human League,
Tomorrow,
Eurythmics,
The Red Krayola,
Pylon,
Graham Central Station,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ultra Naté,
Gastr Del Sol,
June Days,
The Gap Band,
Lou Christie,
Hashim,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jeff Lynne,
La Düsseldorf,
Gang Starr,
The Five Americans,
Wire,
a-ha,
Roger Hodgson,
Alice Coltrane,
The Birthday Party,
Mars,
Pierre Henry,
Can,
The Vogues,
Massinfluence,
Crooked Eye,
Silicon Teens,
The Fall,
Donny Hathaway,
Los Fastidios,
Susan Cadogan,
Big Daddy Kane,
Panda Bear,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Public Enemy,
Youth Brigade,
Reagan Youth,
The Toasters,
John Cale,
Parry Music,
Y Pants,
Idris Muhammad,
David Bowie,
The Black Dice,
the Normal,
The Dave Clark Five,
Tommy Roe,
Scion,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Detroit Cobras,
OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO.
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.