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 Egypt and from Copenhagen.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Lou Reed & Metallica to the jazz 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 Zero Boys. All the underground hits.
All Donny Hathaway tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Guru Guru record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kaleidoscope,
Pulsallama,
Circle Jerks,
Model 500,
The Last Poets,
Swell Maps,
Sonny Sharrock,
New Age Steppers,
Ornette Coleman,
Cybotron,
The Martian,
Scott Walker,
Robert Görl,
Bootsy Collins,
Yaz,
Bang On A Can,
Scientists,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Wasted Youth,
Masters at Work,
Aloha Tigers,
Pantaleimon,
Drexciya,
Beasts of Bourbon,
In Retrospect,
The Five Americans,
R.M.O.,
Flipper,
Metal Thangz,
Eddi Front,
Magma,
Lindisfarne,
Grauzone,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Black Sheep,
Ken Boothe,
Amazonics,
Faraquet,
The Saints,
Electric Prunes,
The New Christs,
The Slackers,
Agent Orange,
Rufus Thomas,
Tubeway Army,
Hardrive,
Gichy Dan,
John Coltrane,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Qualms,
Buzzcocks,
The Fuzztones,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Pet Shop Boys,
Second Layer,
Khruangbin,
Intrusion,
Shuggie Otis,
Sex Pistols,
Glambeats Corp.,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.