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 United Kingdom and from Manila.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Guru Guru. All the underground hits.
All Soul II Soul tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Parry Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Rundgren,
ABC,
Maurizio,
The Tremeloes,
T.S.O.L.,
John Cale,
The Divine Comedy,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Danielle Patucci,
Drexciya,
Letta Mbulu,
Minny Pops,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
DNA,
Can,
Rapeman,
Aural Exciters,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
D'Angelo,
Erykah Badu,
Colin Newman,
Kaleidoscope,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Scrapy,
The Names,
Bronski Beat,
Patti Smith,
Fatback Band,
David Axelrod,
Swell Maps,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Yaz,
Talk Talk,
E-Dancer,
MC5,
Zero Boys,
Mo-Dettes,
Henry Cow,
Black Moon,
Lungfish,
OOIOO,
Youth Brigade,
Tropical Tobacco,
Monolake,
Grandmaster Flash,
Guru Guru,
Marvin Gaye,
Das Ding,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Newcleus,
FM Einheit,
Bluetip,
Laurel Aitken,
Agent Orange,
Main Source,
Malaria!,
Gang Gang Dance,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Leonard Cohen,
Susan Cadogan,
Donny Hathaway,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.