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 Grenada and from Johannesburg.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All The Walker Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dark Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
H. Thieme,
Ken Boothe,
Eric Dolphy,
Soft Cell,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Donald Byrd,
Lower 48,
Jesper Dahlback,
Faraquet,
Kurtis Blow,
Ronnie Foster,
Scientists,
Slave,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Tomorrow,
Kenny Larkin,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Masters at Work,
Soft Machine,
Mr. Review,
Barbara Tucker,
Erykah Badu,
Thompson Twins,
Lalo Schifrin,
Parry Music,
China Crisis,
Rites of Spring,
Jacques Brel,
Dead Boys,
Silicon Teens,
Michelle Simonal,
the Association,
Heaven 17,
Sex Pistols,
Quadrant,
Unrelated Segments,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Marmalade,
Oneida,
D'Angelo,
Crispian St. Peters,
The New Christs,
June Days,
Amon Düül,
The Seeds,
New York Dolls,
Trumans Water,
Delon & Dalcan,
Nik Kershaw,
Young Marble Giants,
Fad Gadget,
Wire,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ohio Players,
Rosa Yemen,
Lindisfarne,
Tommy Roe,
Archie Shepp,
Susan Cadogan,
Lightning Bolt,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.