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 Serbia and from Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 L. Decosne to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aaron Thompson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
Terrestrial Tones,
Trumans Water,
David Axelrod,
Tom Boy,
Marmalade,
The Move,
Nirvana,
Faust,
Sugar Minott,
Soul Sonic Force,
Mr. Review,
Easy Going,
Eli Mardock,
Davy DMX,
Circle Jerks,
Lightning Bolt,
Tropical Tobacco,
Crispy Ambulance,
Boogie Down Productions,
Section 25,
Sun City Girls,
Wire,
Royal Trux,
Drive Like Jehu,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Vogues,
The Barracudas,
Bill Wells,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
John Coltrane,
Ronan,
Rekid,
The Trojans,
Newcleus,
The Neon Judgement,
Arab on Radar,
Kayak,
Jeff Mills,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Spandau Ballet,
Blossom Toes,
Gang Green,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Procol Harum,
Morten Harket,
Grandmaster Flash,
Warren Ellis,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Monks,
Von Mondo,
Chris & Cosey,
The Saints,
The Pretty Things,
Gong,
Sex Pistols,
Anakelly,
Lalann,
Donald Byrd,
the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars.
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.