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 Kenya and from Paris.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the rock 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 The Vogues. All the underground hits.
All CMW tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Excepter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
Quando Quango,
Hashim,
Sixth Finger,
Fat Boys,
The Modern Lovers,
John Holt,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Joy Division,
The Index,
Darondo,
Letta Mbulu,
Malaria!,
Swans,
Con Funk Shun,
Gregory Isaacs,
Cecil Taylor,
Harry Pussy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Toasters,
Kerri Chandler,
Animal Collective,
MDC,
June of 44,
Cymande,
Camberwell Now,
The Fugs,
Sandy B,
Crooked Eye,
The Wake,
Lalo Schifrin,
Marvin Gaye,
Mars,
Minny Pops,
Spandau Ballet,
The Associates,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Misunderstood,
Grey Daturas,
Babytalk,
Cybotron,
Silicon Teens,
Harmonia,
Gong,
Slave,
Lalann,
The Pop Group,
Main Source,
Ohio Players,
DNA,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Pretty Things,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cal Tjader,
The Cramps,
Aloha Tigers,
Khruangbin,
the Germs,
Junior Murvin,
Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget.
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.