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 Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Masters at Work to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Bananas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yazoo,
Byron Stingily,
David Bowie,
The Golliwogs,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Derrick Morgan,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Quando Quango,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bill Near,
H. Thieme,
Minor Threat,
Stereo Dub,
the Fania All-Stars,
Man Eating Sloth,
Minutemen,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Slave,
Popol Vuh,
JFA,
Gang Starr,
The Cure,
John Holt,
R.M.O.,
Jeff Mills,
Loose Ends,
Tres Demented,
Throbbing Gristle,
Roxette,
John Cale,
Underground Resistance,
The Walker Brothers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Dead C,
Lou Reed,
Subhumans,
Cameo,
Anthony Braxton,
Dave Gahan,
Desert Stars,
The Dave Clark Five,
Pere Ubu,
MDC,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Saints,
Grauzone,
Susan Cadogan,
David McCallum,
Jacques Brel,
Porter Ricks,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Peter & Gordon,
Judy Mowatt,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kerri Chandler,
Public Image Ltd.,
Tubeway Army,
Jawbox,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.