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 Hungary and from Lyon.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sun Ra. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles 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 a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Count Five,
Lou Reed,
Roxy Music,
Althea and Donna,
Mr. Review,
Lower 48,
Slick Rick,
Underground Resistance,
Black Flag,
Pierre Henry,
Fear,
The Neon Judgement,
Grey Daturas,
Roger Hodgson,
Lucky Dragons,
Mo-Dettes,
ABC,
Ituana,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sarah Menescal,
Ludus,
the Germs,
Thee Headcoats,
X-101,
Second Layer,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Moody Blues,
Television Personalities,
Josef K,
the Swans,
Scratch Acid,
Television,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Brothers Johnson,
World's Most,
Tommy Roe,
The Smiths,
Steve Hackett,
Toni Rubio,
Kayak,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Symarip,
Marmalade,
The Tremeloes,
Severed Heads,
The Gories,
Crash Course in Science,
Reagan Youth,
Carl Craig,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Alison Limerick,
Wasted Youth,
Ken Boothe,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Faraquet,
Flipper,
The Victims,
F. McDonald,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.