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 Switzerland and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Godley & Creme to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vaughan Mason & Crew record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Severed Heads,
The Sound,
Man Parrish,
The Gun Club,
the Slits,
Lightning Bolt,
Maleditus Sound,
Johnny Clarke,
Grey Daturas,
T.S.O.L.,
Slick Rick,
Connie Case,
The Offenders,
Rapeman,
Traffic Nightmare,
Leonard Cohen,
Sarah Menescal,
Country Teasers,
The Mummies,
Average White Band,
The Music Machine,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Smog,
Marmalade,
Amazonics,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Soft Cell,
The Neon Judgement,
This Heat,
New Order,
UT,
Ronan,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Electric Prunes,
James White and The Blacks,
Morten Harket,
Terrestrial Tones,
Dorothy Ashby,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Boz Scaggs,
Rekid,
The Gap Band,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Urselle,
Ken Boothe,
Quando Quango,
Loose Ends,
the Bar-Kays,
Sandy B,
The Techniques,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Remains,
Make Up,
Alphaville,
Babytalk,
CMW,
Anthony Braxton,
Interpol,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.