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 Nigeria and from Winnipeg.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manchester.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the techno 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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba 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 snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Banda Bassotti,
The Buckinghams,
Man Parrish,
Lindisfarne,
Roxette,
The Vogues,
Mandrill,
Guru Guru,
Roger Hodgson,
Jeff Mills,
John Holt,
Judy Mowatt,
Cluster,
Warsaw,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Fortunes,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
8 Eyed Spy,
Minnie Riperton,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Amazonics,
Suburban Knight,
Depeche Mode,
Delon & Dalcan,
Mission of Burma,
T. Rex,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Nils Olav,
Ludus,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Victims,
The Searchers,
Desert Stars,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Franke,
Bang On A Can,
Stockholm Monsters,
Byron Stingily,
Josef K,
Yaz,
Carl Craig,
K-Klass,
Niagra,
Bobby Womack,
Jeff Lynne,
Stereo Dub,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rufus Thomas,
Sam Rivers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Popol Vuh,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Moss Icon,
Electric Prunes,
The Move,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282.
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.