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 Kenya and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Marc Almond tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every UT 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Dual Sessions,
Faust,
Rufus Thomas,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Blackbyrds,
New Order,
Accadde A,
June of 44,
Delta 5,
Boredoms,
X-101,
Dark Day,
Con Funk Shun,
Alison Limerick,
Rakim,
Scientists,
Aswad,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Jeff Lynne,
Dawn Penn,
Joy Division,
Alphaville,
Nation of Ulysses,
Nils Olav,
Blake Baxter,
Country Teasers,
Sandy B,
Soul Sonic Force,
the Normal,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Eric Dolphy,
Lakeside,
John Holt,
Harry Pussy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Letta Mbulu,
The Sound,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Minutemen,
the Bar-Kays,
Desert Stars,
U.S. Maple,
Parry Music,
KRS-One,
Delon & Dalcan,
Mandrill,
Byron Stingily,
JFA,
Junior Murvin,
Underground Resistance,
Slave,
The Selecter,
Jeru the Damaja,
John Foxx,
Newcleus,
the Human League,
Index,
Visage,
Au Pairs,
Zapp,
Dead Boys,
Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive.
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.