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 Cameroon and from Houston.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Judy Mowatt to the jazz 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Zeros 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 mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mark Hollis,
Man Eating Sloth,
ABBA,
Babytalk,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Saints,
The American Breed,
Skriet,
Buzzcocks,
the Germs,
Suburban Knight,
Idris Muhammad,
John Coltrane,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Unrelated Segments,
Prince Buster,
The Seeds,
The Five Americans,
Deakin,
Dead Boys,
the Soft Cell,
The Index,
Minutemen,
Black Bananas,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lucky Dragons,
Alison Limerick,
Josef K,
Mo-Dettes,
Blossom Toes,
Ultra Naté,
The Monks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Minor Threat,
Lalann,
Quantec,
Angry Samoans,
Mission of Burma,
The Real Kids,
Guru Guru,
Suicide,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jimmy McGriff,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Echospace,
Radiohead,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Michelle Simonal,
Deadbeat,
The Birthday Party,
Donald Byrd,
X-Ray Spex,
Brothers Johnson,
Marine Girls,
X-101,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Connie Case,
Dawn Penn,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.