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 Czech Republic and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Moe Dee to the rap 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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gastr Del Sol 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Q65 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Barracudas,
The Dirtbombs,
Panda Bear,
T. Rex,
Lindisfarne,
Donald Byrd,
Skaos,
The Moody Blues,
X-101,
Lebanon Hanover,
Barbara Tucker,
Joy Division,
Symarip,
Moss Icon,
Lalann,
Spandau Ballet,
Basic Channel,
The Cure,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Judy Mowatt,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rites of Spring,
the Normal,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
La Düsseldorf,
Eric B and Rakim,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Barrington Levy,
Dorothy Ashby,
Make Up,
Crime,
the Association,
Bob Dylan,
Bill Near,
The Fortunes,
Lower 48,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Inner City,
JFA,
Vladislav Delay,
Boogie Down Productions,
Massinfluence,
Gabor Szabo,
The Techniques,
Danielle Patucci,
Sex Pistols,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Gladiators,
Boredoms,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Heaven 17,
The Raincoats,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Beau Brummels,
The J.B.'s,
Lucky Dragons,
Eli Mardock,
Q65, Q65, Q65, Q65.
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.