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 San Marino and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 Mo-Dettes to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fuzztones 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Delon & Dalcan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fall,
Crispy Ambulance,
Zero Boys,
Rufus Thomas,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ken Boothe,
Quando Quango,
Joey Negro,
Gabor Szabo,
World's Most,
Nico,
David Bowie,
The Sound,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ten City,
Electric Prunes,
Khruangbin,
the Association,
James White and The Blacks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Zeros,
Bobby Byrd,
Cameo,
One Last Wish,
Y Pants,
F. McDonald,
Pagans,
Dual Sessions,
EPMD,
Bluetip,
The Selecter,
Maurizio,
The Smoke,
Neil Young,
Tubeway Army,
Symarip,
the Slits,
Swell Maps,
Masters at Work,
Robert Wyatt,
The Blackbyrds,
New York Dolls,
Motorama,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ituana,
Loose Ends,
Gang of Four,
Kas Product,
Cheater Slicks,
Talk Talk,
Metal Thangz,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Yellowson,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Visage,
Arcadia,
The Dead C,
The Gun Club,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.