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 Bhutan and from Shanghai.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 snare 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 Wasted Youth to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Subhumans,
Roxy Music,
The Cowsills,
The Gap Band,
Ultra Naté,
X-Ray Spex,
The Busters,
EPMD,
David Bowie,
Todd Rundgren,
Man Eating Sloth,
Youth Brigade,
Laurel Aitken,
Tres Demented,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rekid,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Sonics,
Alison Limerick,
Thompson Twins,
Chris Corsano,
The United States of America,
Second Layer,
Warsaw,
Judy Mowatt,
Roger Hodgson,
Duran Duran,
The Vogues,
The Names,
Leonard Cohen,
KRS-One,
The Kinks,
The Blues Magoos,
Slick Rick,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Association,
Eric Copeland,
Gabor Szabo,
Little Man,
Minnie Riperton,
The Motions,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bush Tetras,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Michelle Simonal,
Sam Rivers,
The Gladiators,
Crispy Ambulance,
Howard Jones,
Josef K,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Popol Vuh,
The Cure,
Sound Behaviour,
Ponytail,
Cameo,
Rotary Connection,
Connie Case,
Rhythm & Sound,
Brass Construction,
Tubeway Army,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.