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 Equatorial Guinea and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Shanghai and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Tears for Fears to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABC 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?
Cybotron,
Scratch Acid,
The Leaves,
Ponytail,
Camouflage,
Zero Boys,
The Velvet Underground,
Deakin,
Rites of Spring,
cv313,
Masters at Work,
Rakim,
Sight & Sound,
Johnny Clarke,
Con Funk Shun,
The Seeds,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Electric Prunes,
Barry Ungar,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Supertramp,
Drive Like Jehu,
Roxette,
This Heat,
The Birthday Party,
Ten City,
David McCallum,
Crispian St. Peters,
Terry Callier,
Gastr Del Sol,
Theoretical Girls,
Easy Going,
The Martian,
CMW,
Wire,
Pere Ubu,
The Modern Lovers,
Sugar Minott,
Minnie Riperton,
Little Man,
Bootsy Collins,
KRS-One,
The Fuzztones,
Don Cherry,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Crash Course in Science,
Andrew Hill,
B.T. Express,
T. Rex,
Mantronix,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Standells,
Magazine,
Eric Dolphy,
The Selecter,
The Cowsills,
La Düsseldorf,
Faraquet,
Gichy Dan,
Traffic Nightmare,
Grauzone,
Mandrill,
Agent Orange,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.