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 Greece and from Tehran.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Flipper. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Newcleus,
The Techniques,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Johnny Clarke,
The Dave Clark Five,
Black Flag,
Peter and Kerry,
New York Dolls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Supertramp,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Drexciya,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Durutti Column,
The Last Poets,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
the Association,
June Days,
Marvin Gaye,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Warren Ellis,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Monks,
Lucky Dragons,
Gerry Rafferty,
Swans,
The Human League,
Jeff Mills,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Busters,
Joe Smooth,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Scrapy,
Brand Nubian,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Saccharine Trust,
Sex Pistols,
The Doors,
Suicide,
Ken Boothe,
Sixth Finger,
Eli Mardock,
Magma,
Junior Murvin,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Mark Hollis,
China Crisis,
Urselle,
Lou Christie,
Roxette,
Rites of Spring,
The Smoke,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Black Pus,
Babytalk,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Trojans,
Country Teasers,
Big Daddy Kane,
Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad.
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.