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 Kuwait and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 Sao Paulo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Maleditus Sound to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moleskins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yaz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
Sexual Harrassment,
Nico,
Roxy Music,
The Detroit Cobras,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Television,
Supertramp,
Pet Shop Boys,
Eve St. Jones,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Das Ding,
Whodini,
Joyce Sims,
Bush Tetras,
Grandmaster Flash,
Al Stewart,
Grauzone,
Black Moon,
Blake Baxter,
The Names,
Eddi Front,
48th St. Collective,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Peter and Kerry,
Brothers Johnson,
Derrick May,
The Moleskins,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Move,
Radiohead,
The Dirtbombs,
Roy Ayers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Black Pus,
Radiopuhelimet,
Icehouse,
Delta 5,
Cluster,
Charles Mingus,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Y Pants,
Rhythm & Sound,
Magazine,
Motorama,
Erasure,
X-102,
Marmalade,
Connie Case,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Scratch Acid,
The Evens,
Section 25,
Boogie Down Productions,
Crooked Eye,
Shoche,
The Tremeloes,
Accadde A,
The Star Department,
Moby Grape,
The Chocolate Watch Band, The Chocolate Watch Band, The Chocolate Watch Band, The Chocolate Watch Band.
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.