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 Samoa and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 rhodes 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 Trumans Water to the funk 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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage 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?
Altered Images,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Blossom Toes,
Yaz,
Dead Boys,
Warsaw,
Yazoo,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Prince Buster,
Sarah Menescal,
Unrelated Segments,
The Real Kids,
Q65,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Animal Collective,
Scratch Acid,
Reagan Youth,
Aural Exciters,
Marcia Griffiths,
X-102,
L. Decosne,
Pere Ubu,
Ituana,
Lebanon Hanover,
Malaria!,
Bobbi Humphrey,
8 Eyed Spy,
China Crisis,
Pantytec,
Pylon,
The Dead C,
Dawn Penn,
Rotary Connection,
Stetsasonic,
The Mummies,
Q and Not U,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sparks,
Public Image Ltd.,
Wire,
Gil Scott Heron,
Liliput,
Wings,
Jesper Dahlback,
Youth Brigade,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Jacob Miller,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Funky Four + One,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Graham Central Station,
Kerri Chandler,
Niagra,
Jeff Lynne,
Flash Fearless,
MDC,
The Remains,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Dark Day,
Schoolly D, Schoolly D, Schoolly D, Schoolly D.
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.