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 Kiribati and from Glasgow.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 Connie Case to the dance 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 Hoover. All the underground hits.
All The Trojans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy Collins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Swans,
Hashim,
Spandau Ballet,
Nirvana,
Scientists,
Motorama,
K-Klass,
Nico,
D'Angelo,
Q65,
DJ Style,
David Bowie,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Red Krayola,
Shoche,
The Motions,
Little Man,
Chrome,
The Neon Judgement,
Desert Stars,
Minnie Riperton,
The Martian,
Brick,
Dual Sessions,
Toni Rubio,
Bush Tetras,
Television Personalities,
Index,
Drive Like Jehu,
48th St. Collective,
The United States of America,
Severed Heads,
Isaac Hayes,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
CMW,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Misunderstood,
Rekid,
Radio Birdman,
Donald Byrd,
Andrew Hill,
Black Moon,
Sugar Minott,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Trojans,
Quadrant,
Can,
The Young Rascals,
Lee Hazlewood,
Grandmaster Flash,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Monochrome Set,
MC5,
Cymande,
Bill Wells,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Busters,
Soft Cell,
Siglo XX,
Roxette,
John Cale,
X-Ray Spex,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.