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 Switzerland and from Taipei.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 48th St. Collective to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
Godley & Creme,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Smiths,
Maurizio,
Erykah Badu,
June of 44,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sun City Girls,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Spandau Ballet,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Brick,
T. Rex,
Angry Samoans,
Lindisfarne,
Young Marble Giants,
James White and The Blacks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Hardrive,
Easy Going,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Stiv Bators,
Fad Gadget,
Hoover,
The Stooges,
Jeff Lynne,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Grandmaster Flash,
Erasure,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ituana,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bluetip,
Marine Girls,
Kenny Larkin,
Dawn Penn,
John Coltrane,
Lucky Dragons,
Cheater Slicks,
Michelle Simonal,
Peter and Kerry,
Connie Case,
Lalann,
A Certain Ratio,
Laurel Aitken,
The Vogues,
David Bowie,
Dennis Brown,
Scan 7,
Eli Mardock,
Susan Cadogan,
Neu!,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.