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 Tuvalu and from Bremen.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 The Star Department to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
Joyce Sims,
Amon Düül II,
Rod Modell,
Radio Birdman,
Lyres,
Los Fastidios,
Fatback Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kerrie Biddell,
Popol Vuh,
FM Einheit,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sällskapet,
Thee Headcoats,
Ice-T,
Bobby Byrd,
The Walker Brothers,
Ronnie Foster,
Yusef Lateef,
Boredoms,
Letta Mbulu,
R.M.O.,
The Selecter,
The Remains,
Terrestrial Tones,
Brand Nubian,
The Move,
Dave Gahan,
Spoonie Gee,
Interpol,
Desert Stars,
Adolescents,
The Dave Clark Five,
Q65,
Amon Düül,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Blancmange,
Rites of Spring,
Pantaleimon,
Aural Exciters,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Modern Lovers,
Neil Young,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Make Up,
Theoretical Girls,
Wire,
The Count Five,
Terry Callier,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Mars,
Fluxion,
Alphaville,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Unrelated Segments,
Procol Harum,
Mandrill,
MC5,
Iggy Pop,
John Coltrane,
One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish.
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.