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 Qatar and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Terry Callier to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sparks,
Flipper,
The Beau Brummels,
Skaos,
Bootsy Collins,
10cc,
Ohio Players,
Pantaleimon,
Pantytec,
Niagra,
The Monochrome Set,
Funkadelic,
Bluetip,
Sandy B,
Quando Quango,
JFA,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Victims,
Ralphi Rosario,
Barrington Levy,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Selecter,
Mo-Dettes,
Fat Boys,
Oneida,
Visage,
Subhumans,
Rosa Yemen,
Susan Cadogan,
The Smoke,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Reagan Youth,
Marine Girls,
The New Christs,
Icehouse,
Saccharine Trust,
Fear,
The Techniques,
Robert Wyatt,
Drexciya,
The Red Krayola,
Moebius,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
World's Most,
Groovy Waters,
Arab on Radar,
Rod Modell,
Roxy Music,
Banda Bassotti,
The Dave Clark Five,
Eric Dolphy,
Stereo Dub,
The Fire Engines,
Can,
Camouflage,
Ornette Coleman,
Heaven 17,
Colin Newman,
The Slits,
The Alarm Clocks,
MDC,
R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O..
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.