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 Botswana and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Cowsills to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All Blancmange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grey Daturas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
Gang Gang Dance,
Harpers Bizarre,
Charles Mingus,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Electric Prunes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Marine Girls,
Moss Icon,
Brothers Johnson,
Quantec,
The J.B.'s,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Fortunes,
DJ Style,
Robert Hood,
FM Einheit,
Interpol,
Terry Callier,
Godley & Creme,
Bobby Sherman,
Sex Pistols,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sight & Sound,
The Skatalites,
Banda Bassotti,
Hasil Adkins,
The Gladiators,
Skriet,
Sarah Menescal,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Dave Gahan,
Bobby Womack,
Simply Red,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pussy Galore,
Qualms,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Oneida,
Marc Almond,
Sixth Finger,
Electric Prunes,
The Detroit Cobras,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Durutti Column,
Chrome,
Trumans Water,
World's Most,
Leonard Cohen,
Bill Near,
Aaron Thompson,
Half Japanese,
Masters at Work,
OOIOO,
Wasted Youth,
Section 25,
Lungfish,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Residents,
Tommy Roe,
The Golliwogs,
The Move,
Kas Product, Kas Product, Kas Product, Kas Product.
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.