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 Mauritius and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Spoonie Gee. All the underground hits.
All Peter & Gordon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order 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 synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
Oblivians,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
48th St. Collective,
The Doors,
Eve St. Jones,
Brick,
John Foxx,
kango's stein massive,
Guru Guru,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Japan,
Zero Boys,
Circle Jerks,
Barbara Tucker,
Outsiders,
Maurizio,
T.S.O.L.,
Terry Callier,
Slave,
Black Sheep,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pierre Henry,
The J.B.'s,
FM Einheit,
Slick Rick,
Patti Smith,
Cybotron,
Gabor Szabo,
Tropical Tobacco,
Todd Rundgren,
Tommy Roe,
Aloha Tigers,
Lalann,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
U.S. Maple,
The Trojans,
Fad Gadget,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Pharoah Sanders,
Darondo,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Swans,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tubeway Army,
Lee Hazlewood,
Nico,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Nirvana,
The Blues Magoos,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ronan,
Henry Cow,
Sex Pistols,
Sun Ra,
Tom Boy,
Severed Heads,
Young Marble Giants,
The Remains,
Johnny Clarke,
Whodini,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.