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 Libya and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Dirtbombs to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Scott Walker. All the underground hits.
All Soul II Soul tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Colin Newman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Pierre Henry,
Thompson Twins,
Rosa Yemen,
Eve St. Jones,
Rakim,
Scientists,
Tres Demented,
Ossler,
Dennis Brown,
Bronski Beat,
Judy Mowatt,
Rhythm & Sound,
Bauhaus,
Wings,
Silicon Teens,
Brothers Johnson,
Minnie Riperton,
Eden Ahbez,
One Last Wish,
Johnny Osbourne,
CMW,
Blossom Toes,
Bizarre Inc.,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Altered Images,
Harmonia,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Minor Threat,
Spandau Ballet,
Newcleus,
Main Source,
The Durutti Column,
Slave,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Groovy Waters,
The Fugs,
Agent Orange,
The Names,
The Searchers,
Goldenarms,
Oneida,
Avey Tare,
Stiv Bators,
The Monks,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Gap Band,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Quadrant,
The Music Machine,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Buckinghams,
The American Breed,
Alice Coltrane,
Unwound,
The Residents,
Carl Craig,
Glenn Branca,
The Last Poets,
The Birthday Party,
Joy Division,
R.M.O.,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.