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 Ivory Coast and from Johannesburg.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Donald Fagen 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 Black Dice to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Fear. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord 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 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?
Excepter,
Radiohead,
Franke,
Masters at Work,
John Cale,
Nils Olav,
the Soft Cell,
Grandmaster Flash,
Black Flag,
Y Pants,
Radiopuhelimet,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sparks,
The Zeros,
Wolf Eyes,
The Smiths,
Tim Buckley,
Pylon,
Shoche,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cecil Taylor,
The Cure,
The Birthday Party,
The Gories,
Thee Headcoats,
Visage,
Tubeway Army,
The Fall,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kerrie Biddell,
Junior Murvin,
Hashim,
Arthur Verocai,
Girls At Our Best!,
Mantronix,
Nico,
Tommy Roe,
Faraquet,
The Saints,
Todd Rundgren,
DJ Sneak,
Half Japanese,
Tres Demented,
Byron Stingily,
The Mojo Men,
Glambeats Corp.,
Talk Talk,
The Real Kids,
the Association,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Evens,
the Normal,
Babytalk,
Sarah Menescal,
Sound Behaviour,
The Gap Band,
The Misunderstood,
James White and The Blacks,
Gabor Szabo,
Clear Light,
Little Man,
Q and Not U,
Leonard Cohen,
8 Eyed Spy,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.