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 Ecuador and from Manila.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 David Axelrod to the funk 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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Sherman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
The Busters,
Max Romeo,
Crooked Eye,
Blancmange,
Crime,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Aural Exciters,
Nas,
Ultimate Spinach,
Josef K,
Colin Newman,
Jeff Lynne,
James White and The Blacks,
Barry Ungar,
Babytalk,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Outsiders,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Funky Four + One,
E-Dancer,
Vainqueur,
Piero Umiliani,
Donny Hathaway,
The American Breed,
Electric Prunes,
Funkadelic,
Fugazi,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Marc Almond,
Rites of Spring,
Dual Sessions,
Davy DMX,
Theoretical Girls,
Janne Schatter,
Roxette,
Brothers Johnson,
New Order,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Boz Scaggs,
The Dave Clark Five,
Moby Grape,
The J.B.'s,
The Toasters,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sister Nancy,
The Red Krayola,
Soul II Soul,
The Doors,
Stetsasonic,
Alison Limerick,
Man Eating Sloth,
Mission of Burma,
Joyce Sims,
David Bowie,
The Moody Blues,
Cameo,
Tres Demented,
Electric Light Orchestra,
the Bar-Kays,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Associates,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.