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 Croatia and from Seoul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the funk 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 The Gap Band. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Robert Wyatt,
DJ Style,
Maleditus Sound,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Stooges,
The Techniques,
Banda Bassotti,
Minutemen,
Depeche Mode,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
48th St. Collective,
Grey Daturas,
Bobby Sherman,
Frankie Knuckles,
the Soft Cell,
Albert Ayler,
Dead Boys,
Neil Young,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Black Pus,
Das Ding,
Harpers Bizarre,
Agitation Free,
Gang Gang Dance,
These Immortal Souls,
Yellowson,
The Mojo Men,
The Durutti Column,
Monolake,
Arab on Radar,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Cal Tjader,
The Slits,
Anakelly,
Eve St. Jones,
The Electric Prunes,
June Days,
Crash Course in Science,
Animal Collective,
Pierre Henry,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Agent Orange,
The Tremeloes,
Carl Craig,
U.S. Maple,
Henry Cow,
Little Man,
The Pretty Things,
Laurel Aitken,
Stiv Bators,
Kenny Larkin,
Vainqueur,
James White and The Blacks,
Nico,
Moss Icon,
Brass Construction,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Moby Grape,
Sight & Sound,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.