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 Philippines and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Portland.
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 guitar 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the rap 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 The Seeds. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nation of Ulysses,
Man Parrish,
Black Pus,
Crooked Eye,
Pantytec,
Deepchord,
Donny Hathaway,
Carl Craig,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kenny Larkin,
The Grass Roots,
The American Breed,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
JFA,
Brick,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
In Retrospect,
Cameo,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jeff Mills,
Altered Images,
Delta 5,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Visage,
Malaria!,
Audionom,
John Holt,
La Düsseldorf,
Guru Guru,
Kerri Chandler,
The Alarm Clocks,
Young Marble Giants,
Juan Atkins,
Boz Scaggs,
Ohio Players,
Spandau Ballet,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Motions,
Camouflage,
MC5,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Ralphi Rosario,
KRS-One,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Maleditus Sound,
Quando Quango,
Mars,
Morten Harket,
Zero Boys,
Sugar Minott,
Faraquet,
Maurizio,
Mantronix,
Darondo,
Con Funk Shun,
Sound Behaviour,
Rakim,
The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five.
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.