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 Bulgaria and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
Whodini,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Minor Threat,
Suburban Knight,
Slick Rick,
Boz Scaggs,
Roxy Music,
Kaleidoscope,
Sun Ra,
Matthew Bourne,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Quadrant,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ituana,
The Alarm Clocks,
Marvin Gaye,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wings,
The Gladiators,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Gun Club,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Toni Rubio,
Moss Icon,
Silicon Teens,
The Human League,
Newcleus,
Jacques Brel,
Andrew Hill,
The Walker Brothers,
The Zeros,
Gang Starr,
Make Up,
JFA,
The Smiths,
Idris Muhammad,
Joyce Sims,
KRS-One,
Surgeon,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Invisible,
The Victims,
Charles Mingus,
Monks,
Stetsasonic,
New Order,
Ten City,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Velvet Underground,
The Dirtbombs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Tubeway Army,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Scratch Acid,
The Skatalites,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sällskapet,
Y Pants,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.