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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fuzztones to the techno 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 The Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
The Invisible,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Derrick Morgan,
Brick,
Dorothy Ashby,
Crime,
Camberwell Now,
James White and The Blacks,
Cheater Slicks,
Oneida,
The Fuzztones,
Malaria!,
Zero Boys,
Kerrie Biddell,
Smog,
Black Flag,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Joe Smooth,
Wasted Youth,
Colin Newman,
Freddie Wadling,
the Sonics,
Agent Orange,
Public Enemy,
The Motions,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Nas,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Human League,
The Busters,
Eric Copeland,
Shuggie Otis,
Aswad,
Ronan,
Reuben Wilson,
Minnie Riperton,
Intrusion,
Aural Exciters,
Unrelated Segments,
John Cale,
Wally Richardson,
Livin' Joy,
Bluetip,
Robert Görl,
Lightning Bolt,
David Axelrod,
Gang Gang Dance,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sexual Harrassment,
Masters at Work,
Sparks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Fad Gadget,
Chrome,
Y Pants,
Bush Tetras,
Sister Nancy,
Model 500,
Mary Jane Girls,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.