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 Estonia and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Index to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quantec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kurtis Blow,
Soft Cell,
Cybotron,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Black Moon,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Hashim,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Index,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Whodini,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Fania All-Stars,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Johnny Clarke,
Delta 5,
Symarip,
Camberwell Now,
Aloha Tigers,
Byron Stingily,
Flash Fearless,
Supertramp,
Hasil Adkins,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Intrusion,
John Lydon,
The Fortunes,
Malaria!,
Max Romeo,
These Immortal Souls,
The Sound,
Sound Behaviour,
Urselle,
Sonny Sharrock,
Alphaville,
Parry Music,
The Smoke,
The Slackers,
Pantaleimon,
Black Bananas,
R.M.O.,
The Flesh Eaters,
Erykah Badu,
K-Klass,
Ice-T,
The Dead C,
Audionom,
The Shadows of Knight,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Gories,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
ABBA,
The Gun Club,
The Gap Band,
A Certain Ratio,
Grey Daturas,
Sonic Youth,
Isaac Hayes,
Brick,
David Bowie,
La Düsseldorf,
Visage,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Barry Ungar,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.