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 Papua New Guinea and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sun Ra Arkestra 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 The Stooges. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Subhumans,
The Dead C,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Hot Snakes,
Crooked Eye,
Joe Finger,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Surgeon,
Sixth Finger,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Fugs,
New Age Steppers,
Josef K,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Jawbox,
Donald Byrd,
Motorama,
Whodini,
Morten Harket,
The Modern Lovers,
Magma,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Don Cherry,
The Moody Blues,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Shuggie Otis,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Red Krayola,
D'Angelo,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Pere Ubu,
Lyres,
Y Pants,
The Barracudas,
Alice Coltrane,
Curtis Mayfield,
Talk Talk,
Barclay James Harvest,
Derrick Morgan,
Soft Cell,
Malaria!,
Main Source,
Procol Harum,
The Velvet Underground,
the Bar-Kays,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Infiniti,
a-ha,
The Angels of Light,
Ituana,
Arab on Radar,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Roxette,
Godley & Creme,
Dennis Brown,
Unwound,
Minutemen,
Severed Heads,
Sun City Girls,
Eurythmics,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.