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 Bolivia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Niagra to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots 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 rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Raincoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Country Teasers,
EPMD,
Flamin' Groovies,
Johnny Osbourne,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Red Krayola,
Fela Kuti,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Barry Ungar,
Ultra Naté,
Shoche,
Nico,
Pere Ubu,
Hoover,
Scratch Acid,
China Crisis,
Toni Rubio,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Babytalk,
The Shadows of Knight,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Intrusion,
Tommy Roe,
Desert Stars,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Doors,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Idris Muhammad,
Blancmange,
Unwound,
Wings,
Warsaw,
The Monks,
Infiniti,
Ralphi Rosario,
The American Breed,
Charles Mingus,
Young Marble Giants,
Alton Ellis,
the Normal,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Smoke,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ken Boothe,
Isaac Hayes,
Fatback Band,
Schoolly D,
Marshall Jefferson,
Cymande,
Rosa Yemen,
AZ,
Junior Murvin,
Grauzone,
the Fania All-Stars,
Motorama,
CMW,
Gang Green,
Connie Case,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.