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 Afghanistan and from Madrid.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Whodini to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Guru Guru. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonic Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ornette Coleman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Morten Harket,
The Kinks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Andrew Hill,
R.M.O.,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Birthday Party,
U.S. Maple,
Fela Kuti,
Subhumans,
Derrick Morgan,
Ten City,
Bobby Hutcherson,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Sound,
Soft Cell,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Blues Magoos,
DNA,
The Pretty Things,
The Mummies,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Motions,
Kool Moe Dee,
Hot Snakes,
the Bar-Kays,
The Beau Brummels,
KRS-One,
The Modern Lovers,
Kurtis Blow,
Peter & Gordon,
Brand Nubian,
Freddie Wadling,
Marine Girls,
Fifty Foot Hose,
David Bowie,
The Slits,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Traffic Nightmare,
Curtis Mayfield,
Don Cherry,
Maleditus Sound,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Grass Roots,
The Techniques,
Mr. Review,
Y Pants,
Rotary Connection,
Alison Limerick,
The Offenders,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Magazine,
Brass Construction,
Spoonie Gee,
48th St. Collective,
Bang On A Can,
Tears for Fears,
Q and Not U,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
AZ,
The Golliwogs,
Throbbing Gristle,
F. McDonald,
Lakeside,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.