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 Barbados and from Salvador.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Girls At Our Best! to the punk 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 Flipper. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Faraquet,
Avey Tare,
Slave,
The Electric Prunes,
The Cramps,
Absolute Body Control,
Delta 5,
Basic Channel,
Magma,
Ornette Coleman,
a-ha,
Gang Gang Dance,
Dorothy Ashby,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Misunderstood,
Moebius,
Boredoms,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Nirvana,
Minor Threat,
Buzzcocks,
Agent Orange,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Radio Birdman,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Negative Approach,
The Happenings,
Faust,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Swell Maps,
Albert Ayler,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Saints,
Rhythm & Sound,
Icehouse,
LL Cool J,
Severed Heads,
Drexciya,
Deadbeat,
CMW,
The Fall,
Fad Gadget,
Mandrill,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
ABC,
The American Breed,
Crime,
Bang On A Can,
Roy Ayers,
Flipper,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Inner City,
Darondo,
Soulsonic Force,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Lakeside,
Sällskapet,
Hoover,
Ponytail,
Jeff Mills,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.