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 Malta and from Salvador.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Gang Gang Dance to the funk 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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All PIL tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nas 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Shoche,
Lou Christie,
Crispian St. Peters,
CMW,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nirvana,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lakeside,
Thee Headcoats,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Index,
David McCallum,
Soulsonic Force,
Monks,
The Invisible,
The Busters,
The Moody Blues,
Stiv Bators,
Frankie Knuckles,
Andrew Hill,
Theoretical Girls,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kas Product,
The Wake,
The Saints,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Man Parrish,
Amon Düül,
Suicide,
Banda Bassotti,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Intrusion,
a-ha,
The Fire Engines,
The Divine Comedy,
The Slits,
OOIOO,
Rosa Yemen,
Silicon Teens,
The Young Rascals,
Robert Wyatt,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ultravox,
Dave Gahan,
Boogie Down Productions,
Alice Coltrane,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Carl Craig,
Robert Görl,
The Searchers,
Procol Harum,
The Evens,
Danielle Patucci,
Nico,
The Standells,
Gang Green,
In Retrospect,
Todd Rundgren,
The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels.
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.