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 Kiribati and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 güiro 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 Donny Hathaway to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Dual Sessions,
John Coltrane,
Monks,
Dark Day,
Drexciya,
The Electric Prunes,
Sex Pistols,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Josef K,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
T. Rex,
ABBA,
The Blackbyrds,
Saccharine Trust,
Liliput,
Bang On A Can,
Crash Course in Science,
Nik Kershaw,
Lungfish,
Ice-T,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Ituana,
Rotary Connection,
Colin Newman,
Swans,
Tubeway Army,
Jeru the Damaja,
Mars,
Minny Pops,
the Association,
Rekid,
Masters at Work,
Robert Görl,
Man Eating Sloth,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Raincoats,
Little Man,
The Neon Judgement,
Boredoms,
Chris Corsano,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pulsallama,
Deadbeat,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Scott Walker,
Swell Maps,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Nas,
The Pop Group,
Anakelly,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Anthony Braxton,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Quantec,
Gabor Szabo,
Echospace,
Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin.
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.