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 Kazakhstan and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Alphaville to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sun City Girls. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
Bad Manners,
Fela Kuti,
Buzzcocks,
the Human League,
Electric Prunes,
The Fortunes,
The Blackbyrds,
The Fuzztones,
Altered Images,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Spandau Ballet,
Connie Case,
Oneida,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Associates,
Deakin,
Gong,
Tropical Tobacco,
New Age Steppers,
Funkadelic,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Brothers Johnson,
Popol Vuh,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Yusef Lateef,
The Modern Lovers,
JFA,
The Black Dice,
The Residents,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Aswad,
Wasted Youth,
Warsaw,
Absolute Body Control,
Sight & Sound,
Audionom,
Black Flag,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bootsy Collins,
Todd Rundgren,
Grey Daturas,
The Saints,
Derrick Morgan,
the Slits,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pulsallama,
Mandrill,
Supertramp,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Sister Nancy,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Motions,
Sexual Harrassment,
Piero Umiliani,
Bill Near,
The Beau Brummels,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Severed Heads,
Frankie Knuckles,
Chris Corsano,
Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig.
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.