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 Kyrgyzstan and from Beijing.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Davy DMX to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All Infiniti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive 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 a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Rundgren record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers,
The Red Krayola,
Bobby Sherman,
The Index,
Alton Ellis,
Funky Four + One,
Severed Heads,
Jawbox,
Maleditus Sound,
Graham Central Station,
John Foxx,
Scan 7,
Duran Duran,
The Misunderstood,
Rites of Spring,
Radiohead,
The Pretty Things,
Cameo,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sällskapet,
Bush Tetras,
Rekid,
The Angels of Light,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Toasters,
The Last Poets,
Easy Going,
Talk Talk,
Donny Hathaway,
Scion,
Minnie Riperton,
Delon & Dalcan,
DJ Style,
Jeff Lynne,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
the Association,
The Alarm Clocks,
Derrick Morgan,
Wolf Eyes,
Eric Copeland,
Lyres,
Can,
The Fugs,
Swell Maps,
The Music Machine,
Blossom Toes,
Aswad,
Donald Byrd,
Yazoo,
Ronan,
Ossler,
Althea and Donna,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Con Funk Shun,
Surgeon,
Fort Wilson Riot,
K-Klass,
Black Sheep,
Sam Rivers,
The Motions,
Pole,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.