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 Cuba and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Jeff Mills to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Soulsonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick Morgan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
UT,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Nico,
Harpers Bizarre,
Public Enemy,
Negative Approach,
Brothers Johnson,
Mantronix,
In Retrospect,
Trumans Water,
Henry Cow,
Soft Machine,
Mr. Review,
Sixth Finger,
The Tremeloes,
Adolescents,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The J.B.'s,
Charles Mingus,
Derrick Morgan,
JFA,
The Gap Band,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ice-T,
Camouflage,
The Gories,
Sonic Youth,
Gichy Dan,
Metal Thangz,
Aaron Thompson,
Faust,
the Bar-Kays,
Jawbox,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Simply Red,
a-ha,
The Toasters,
Lalann,
The Grass Roots,
Nils Olav,
The Music Machine,
Subhumans,
Quantec,
Theoretical Girls,
Danielle Patucci,
Marcia Griffiths,
Peter & Gordon,
The Young Rascals,
Todd Rundgren,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kerri Chandler,
The Black Dice,
Half Japanese,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Red Krayola,
Howard Jones,
Warsaw,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.