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 Thailand and from Lille.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the snare 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 X-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Wells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
The Kinks,
AZ,
Man Parrish,
Dawn Penn,
The Busters,
Crash Course in Science,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lightning Bolt,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Names,
Theoretical Girls,
Altered Images,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jeff Lynne,
Erykah Badu,
Iggy Pop,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Golliwogs,
Rhythm & Sound,
Faust,
Hardrive,
Easy Going,
Sandy B,
Dark Day,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Blues Magoos,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Germs,
Lalann,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Babytalk,
Sight & Sound,
Visage,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Juan Atkins,
The Music Machine,
David McCallum,
Aswad,
Moebius,
Quantec,
The Cowsills,
Gang Gang Dance,
Jeff Mills,
Boredoms,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Soulsonic Force,
Ossler,
Kerrie Biddell,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Roger Hodgson,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jerry's Kids,
China Crisis,
Robert Wyatt,
Ken Boothe,
Deepchord,
The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas.
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.