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 Mongolia and from Taipei.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Visage to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Evens. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nico,
Radiopuhelimet,
Judy Mowatt,
The Gap Band,
Reagan Youth,
Marcia Griffiths,
Siglo XX,
Gang Green,
The Misunderstood,
James White and The Blacks,
Nation of Ulysses,
Shoche,
Maleditus Sound,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Black Bananas,
Tommy Roe,
The Remains,
Massinfluence,
The Seeds,
Section 25,
The Mojo Men,
Gabor Szabo,
Agent Orange,
Robert Wyatt,
Moby Grape,
Bobby Womack,
Lou Christie,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sun City Girls,
Gang Starr,
Girls At Our Best!,
David Bowie,
Henry Cow,
Flipper,
Rekid,
Thompson Twins,
China Crisis,
Monks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Liliput,
Erykah Badu,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Depeche Mode,
Sarah Menescal,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
a-ha,
Mark Hollis,
Bill Wells,
Sam Rivers,
The Modern Lovers,
The Associates,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gang of Four,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pere Ubu,
Lalo Schifrin,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.