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 Sierra Leone and from Mexico City.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 Spandau Ballet to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sound. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
Andrew Hill,
Gerry Rafferty,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Mojo Men,
Ponytail,
JFA,
Sister Nancy,
Stiv Bators,
Marshall Jefferson,
Franke,
OOIOO,
Pharoah Sanders,
Swell Maps,
Vladislav Delay,
Slick Rick,
The Smoke,
Frankie Knuckles,
Traffic Nightmare,
Nick Fraelich,
Jeru the Damaja,
La Düsseldorf,
The Cowsills,
Japan,
The Knickerbockers,
Angry Samoans,
The Searchers,
Drexciya,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Modern Lovers,
Symarip,
Faraquet,
Mad Mike,
Lungfish,
The Real Kids,
Aloha Tigers,
Groovy Waters,
Delta 5,
Steve Hackett,
The Associates,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Cal Tjader,
B.T. Express,
The Slits,
Supertramp,
Infiniti,
48th St. Collective,
the Slits,
Surgeon,
Roxy Music,
Morten Harket,
The Evens,
Funky Four + One,
The Techniques,
Bush Tetras,
Dark Day,
Dave Gahan,
Barrington Levy,
Sun Ra,
Whodini,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.