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 Vietnam 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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the marimba 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 Pantytec to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young & Crazy Horse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
Q and Not U,
Mission of Burma,
the Association,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Smoke,
The Victims,
Wasted Youth,
Quadrant,
Scan 7,
Soft Machine,
Dawn Penn,
Tres Demented,
Wally Richardson,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Agent Orange,
Joe Smooth,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Isaac Hayes,
Los Fastidios,
a-ha,
Agitation Free,
Toni Rubio,
Sällskapet,
Bill Near,
Simply Red,
Kerrie Biddell,
LL Cool J,
The Evens,
Public Enemy,
John Lydon,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Grauzone,
Junior Murvin,
The Neon Judgement,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bill Wells,
Warren Ellis,
The Stooges,
Siglo XX,
June Days,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Electric Prunes,
Babytalk,
Mr. Review,
Oneida,
The Walker Brothers,
The Music Machine,
The Blackbyrds,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Derrick May,
Fatback Band,
Don Cherry,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Mummies,
Heaven 17,
The Fire Engines,
Magma,
Freddie Wadling,
Pharoah Sanders,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.