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 Mozambique and from Calgary.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Arab on Radar to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Absolute Body Control. All the underground hits.
All Unwound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Duran Duran record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Divine Comedy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Groovy Waters,
Judy Mowatt,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Todd Terry,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Erykah Badu,
Crime,
Con Funk Shun,
B.T. Express,
Bang On A Can,
Pagans,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Eden Ahbez,
The Beau Brummels,
Slick Rick,
Visage,
Barry Ungar,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pole,
Monks,
Joey Negro,
Lee Hazlewood,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Section 25,
Jerry's Kids,
Trumans Water,
Terry Callier,
Jeru the Damaja,
U.S. Maple,
Buzzcocks,
Jacob Miller,
John Lydon,
Fat Boys,
Gang Starr,
Sexual Harrassment,
This Heat,
Harmonia,
Negative Approach,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Q and Not U,
Traffic Nightmare,
Blancmange,
Piero Umiliani,
Big Daddy Kane,
Morten Harket,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Surgeon,
Roy Ayers,
The Fugs,
Fela Kuti,
Average White Band,
Absolute Body Control,
Funkadelic,
Metal Thangz,
Bizarre Inc.,
Swell Maps,
Tubeway Army,
Black Flag,
Soft Machine,
Easy Going,
Television,
Aaron Thompson,
Tropical Tobacco,
La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf.
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.