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 Sweden and from Lagos.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 J.B.'s to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Roxette. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy's Rubber Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
The Selecter,
Metal Thangz,
Joe Finger,
The Electric Prunes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bronski Beat,
Flamin' Groovies,
Malaria!,
The Birthday Party,
Supertramp,
Toni Rubio,
Swell Maps,
Mo-Dettes,
The Invisible,
Frankie Knuckles,
Index,
Flash Fearless,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Vladislav Delay,
Bob Dylan,
Delta 5,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Moleskins,
Oneida,
Ludus,
Monolake,
The Blackbyrds,
These Immortal Souls,
Kevin Saunderson,
Barclay James Harvest,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Interpol,
The Neon Judgement,
Iggy Pop,
Accadde A,
F. McDonald,
Fad Gadget,
Arthur Verocai,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Five Americans,
Lakeside,
Duran Duran,
Dorothy Ashby,
Stockholm Monsters,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Red Krayola,
DNA,
Eurythmics,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Kaleidoscope,
The Gladiators,
Kerri Chandler,
Suicide,
Colin Newman,
Harmonia,
Blake Baxter,
Funkadelic,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.