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 Denmark and from Sao Paulo.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Symarip to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Johnny Clarke,
Moss Icon,
Leonard Cohen,
Massinfluence,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Babytalk,
the Bar-Kays,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Neu!,
Average White Band,
Tubeway Army,
Girls At Our Best!,
Thee Headcoats,
Zapp,
Banda Bassotti,
Reagan Youth,
DJ Sneak,
OOIOO,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Cure,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Jesper Dahlback,
The J.B.'s,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Slits,
Piero Umiliani,
John Lydon,
Harry Pussy,
Arthur Verocai,
Rufus Thomas,
Stiv Bators,
Gregory Isaacs,
Crooked Eye,
Absolute Body Control,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Black Dice,
The Mummies,
The Pretty Things,
Cal Tjader,
A Certain Ratio,
Radiopuhelimet,
the Soft Cell,
Stereo Dub,
Yaz,
The Buckinghams,
Darondo,
John Holt,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lakeside,
Sun City Girls,
Metal Thangz,
Ultravox,
Arcadia,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Eyeless In Gaza,
David Bowie,
Bad Manners,
Vladislav Delay,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.