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 Sierra Leone and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Residents to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 In Retrospect. All the underground hits.
All The Young Rascals tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Enemy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
Make Up,
L. Decosne,
Ornette Coleman,
Arthur Verocai,
June Days,
The Electric Prunes,
Isaac Hayes,
Rhythm & Sound,
Colin Newman,
Technova,
Cameo,
Quantec,
Altered Images,
Stiv Bators,
a-ha,
Soft Cell,
Thee Headcoats,
Robert Görl,
Pierre Henry,
Blossom Toes,
The Moleskins,
the Soft Cell,
Slick Rick,
Vainqueur,
Lyres,
Stereo Dub,
Alphaville,
Roger Hodgson,
Eurythmics,
New Age Steppers,
Delta 5,
Jimmy McGriff,
Nas,
Tres Demented,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Siglo XX,
Mary Jane Girls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bill Wells,
The Angels of Light,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jacob Miller,
Andrew Hill,
Kerrie Biddell,
Todd Terry,
Moby Grape,
Harry Pussy,
Boredoms,
Schoolly D,
The Gladiators,
Bluetip,
X-Ray Spex,
Gil Scott Heron,
Clear Light,
Todd Rundgren,
The Fuzztones,
Negative Approach,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.