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 Italy and from Hong Kong.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manila.
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 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 John Lydon to the techno 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 Remains. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Mr. Review,
DJ Sneak,
John Foxx,
UT,
Ponytail,
the Slits,
The Cure,
The Alarm Clocks,
A Certain Ratio,
Dawn Penn,
Aloha Tigers,
Freddie Wadling,
a-ha,
Harry Pussy,
Skaos,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Motions,
The American Breed,
Quadrant,
Jimmy McGriff,
Aural Exciters,
Sarah Menescal,
Byron Stingily,
Lakeside,
Ludus,
June of 44,
The Count Five,
Main Source,
Make Up,
The J.B.'s,
Franke,
Jeff Mills,
Fad Gadget,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Grass Roots,
Cal Tjader,
Depeche Mode,
Grey Daturas,
Television,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Joensuu 1685,
Nation of Ulysses,
Donny Hathaway,
Al Stewart,
The Skatalites,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Heaven 17,
Curtis Mayfield,
Quantec,
The Fortunes,
The Names,
Spoonie Gee,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
This Heat,
Brick,
Youth Brigade,
The Real Kids,
Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest.
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.