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 Montenegro and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
The Cure,
Goldenarms,
Au Pairs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Angry Samoans,
Chrome,
The Durutti Column,
Mark Hollis,
Essential Logic,
June Days,
The Smiths,
Tres Demented,
D'Angelo,
John Foxx,
ABBA,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Slackers,
New York Dolls,
The Standells,
Robert Görl,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
David Bowie,
David Axelrod,
Yellowson,
DJ Style,
Roxette,
Throbbing Gristle,
Soul II Soul,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Josef K,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Underground Resistance,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Detroit Cobras,
John Holt,
U.S. Maple,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gichy Dan,
Thompson Twins,
Q and Not U,
June of 44,
Curtis Mayfield,
Zapp,
Bizarre Inc.,
Camberwell Now,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Monochrome Set,
Drive Like Jehu,
Banda Bassotti,
Qualms,
Inner City,
Visage,
Flash Fearless,
Dorothy Ashby,
the Swans,
Terry Callier,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Maleditus Sound,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
X-Ray Spex,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.