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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
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 The Saints to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Association record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ohio Players,
Pantytec,
Jandek,
Robert Görl,
The Remains,
Sixth Finger,
The Music Machine,
Derrick Morgan,
Kool Moe Dee,
Jawbox,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Wasted Youth,
The Wake,
Cal Tjader,
John Coltrane,
Jimmy McGriff,
Quando Quango,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pulsallama,
Ultra Naté,
Nik Kershaw,
Boz Scaggs,
The Standells,
The Cramps,
Tim Buckley,
Connie Case,
The Searchers,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Thee Headcoats,
The Residents,
Adolescents,
Colin Newman,
Roger Hodgson,
Masters at Work,
Nick Fraelich,
Agent Orange,
Blossom Toes,
Rekid,
Bluetip,
Flamin' Groovies,
the Association,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bush Tetras,
Lalann,
Black Sheep,
MC5,
Radiopuhelimet,
Symarip,
Jerry's Kids,
Ice-T,
R.M.O.,
Scrapy,
Buzzcocks,
Clear Light,
The Move,
Thompson Twins,
Cheater Slicks,
LL Cool J,
Franke,
The Index,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.