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 Belize and from Sao Paulo.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Eric B and Rakim to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Alton Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
Lakeside,
Monks,
The Motions,
Echospace,
Gong,
Dorothy Ashby,
Morten Harket,
Joe Finger,
Suicide,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mandrill,
Jeff Lynne,
Ossler,
DNA,
Cheater Slicks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sexual Harrassment,
James White and The Blacks,
Black Sheep,
Wire,
Cameo,
Joensuu 1685,
Aloha Tigers,
Sandy B,
Rod Modell,
In Retrospect,
Harpers Bizarre,
Vladislav Delay,
The Dirtbombs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rosa Yemen,
the Germs,
Wings,
Soulsonic Force,
Y Pants,
R.M.O.,
Brand Nubian,
Patti Smith,
The Beau Brummels,
Gang Green,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
MC5,
Sex Pistols,
Ohio Players,
Eddi Front,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eve St. Jones,
Piero Umiliani,
Parry Music,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mary Jane Girls,
Dave Gahan,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ten City,
The Tremeloes,
Tim Buckley,
Stiv Bators,
Prince Buster,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.