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 Samoa and from Woodstock.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 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 Flesh Eaters to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Erasure. All the underground hits.
All FM Einheit tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
New Age Steppers,
The Gun Club,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Blues Magoos,
Rites of Spring,
Janne Schatter,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Frankie Knuckles,
Goldenarms,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Association,
Bill Wells,
Essential Logic,
Franke,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sight & Sound,
Pantytec,
Ten City,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fluxion,
Thee Headcoats,
Aswad,
Liliput,
Bang On A Can,
The Cowsills,
The Slackers,
Kenny Larkin,
Y Pants,
Isaac Hayes,
Mary Jane Girls,
Barry Ungar,
Cybotron,
Harry Pussy,
Los Fastidios,
The Kinks,
Saccharine Trust,
Terry Callier,
Mr. Review,
Fad Gadget,
Susan Cadogan,
Silicon Teens,
Ohio Players,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Todd Rundgren,
Jacques Brel,
Ultra Naté,
Electric Prunes,
Sound Behaviour,
Fela Kuti,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
the Bar-Kays,
Byron Stingily,
Yusef Lateef,
Joy Division,
Bauhaus,
The Last Poets,
Heaven 17,
Robert Hood,
Godley & Creme, Godley & Creme, Godley & Creme, Godley & Creme.
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.