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 Somalia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the marimba 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 Rakim to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul II Soul,
This Heat,
Sex Pistols,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lyres,
The Seeds,
Crooked Eye,
Hot Snakes,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Eddi Front,
Black Flag,
Aloha Tigers,
Von Mondo,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Country Teasers,
Don Cherry,
Magma,
Kas Product,
The Neon Judgement,
Howard Jones,
Shoche,
Porter Ricks,
The Slackers,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pylon,
Nas,
The Slits,
Fad Gadget,
the Slits,
Radiohead,
Fela Kuti,
Niagra,
Dave Gahan,
Mandrill,
X-101,
The Mighty Diamonds,
K-Klass,
The Five Americans,
Funkadelic,
Juan Atkins,
Rosa Yemen,
Depeche Mode,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bobby Hutcherson,
a-ha,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Minnie Riperton,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lakeside,
kango's stein massive,
Sparks,
The Selecter,
The Fall,
Peter and Kerry,
Roxette,
Wasted Youth,
Tom Boy,
Mission of Burma,
New Order,
MDC,
The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers.
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.