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 Seychelles and from Bremen.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Sight & Sound to the crunk 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 Deadbeat. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Divine Comedy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Jeru the Damaja,
Basic Channel,
Fatback Band,
James White and The Blacks,
Adolescents,
Brand Nubian,
Patti Smith,
F. McDonald,
Section 25,
The Music Machine,
Max Romeo,
Mars,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Nirvana,
The Offenders,
The Mojo Men,
The Cowsills,
The Gladiators,
Amon Düül,
Surgeon,
The United States of America,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Godley & Creme,
Brass Construction,
Kerri Chandler,
Roxette,
China Crisis,
Traffic Nightmare,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ponytail,
Average White Band,
The Durutti Column,
Mantronix,
Arthur Verocai,
Warsaw,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sarah Menescal,
Rosa Yemen,
Leonard Cohen,
Harmonia,
Alice Coltrane,
Young Marble Giants,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Gap Band,
Dead Boys,
Crime,
Quadrant,
Technova,
Intrusion,
The Toasters,
Banda Bassotti,
Depeche Mode,
Graham Central Station,
Sällskapet,
Roxy Music,
Pharoah Sanders,
Big Daddy Kane,
Don Cherry,
Crispian St. Peters,
Deakin,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.