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 Mali and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Gerry Rafferty to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Chris Corsano. All the underground hits.
All Inner City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
The Stooges,
Rites of Spring,
Nirvana,
Icehouse,
Magma,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Organ,
Gong,
Soulsonic Force,
Pole,
Oneida,
The Happenings,
New York Dolls,
the Swans,
Scion,
Cabaret Voltaire,
48th St. Collective,
Matthew Bourne,
Black Flag,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Flesh Eaters,
Metal Thangz,
Tropical Tobacco,
Silicon Teens,
The Gladiators,
Sugar Minott,
The Motions,
Q and Not U,
Rotary Connection,
Kas Product,
This Heat,
the Bar-Kays,
Boredoms,
Stiv Bators,
Joyce Sims,
Crooked Eye,
Minutemen,
Camberwell Now,
F. McDonald,
The Detroit Cobras,
Desert Stars,
Mandrill,
8 Eyed Spy,
Skriet,
Television Personalities,
Agitation Free,
Duran Duran,
Faraquet,
Cybotron,
Marvin Gaye,
Fat Boys,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Red Krayola,
Panda Bear,
Wally Richardson,
Vladislav Delay,
PIL,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Deadbeat,
T.S.O.L.,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.