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 Syria and from Bologna.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Madrid.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Danielle Patucci to the rock 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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool Moe Dee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Susan Cadogan,
Vladislav Delay,
Accadde A,
Heaven 17,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Wally Richardson,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Erasure,
Maurizio,
The Detroit Cobras,
Arthur Verocai,
Gang Gang Dance,
Chris & Cosey,
Camberwell Now,
Fear,
Essential Logic,
Black Pus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Swans,
Stiv Bators,
Prince Buster,
Urselle,
Electric Prunes,
The Busters,
Radiohead,
Joyce Sims,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Carl Craig,
Brothers Johnson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Vainqueur,
Peter and Kerry,
Scrapy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Andrew Hill,
B.T. Express,
The Smiths,
Reuben Wilson,
Ken Boothe,
Motorama,
Interpol,
Blancmange,
Josef K,
Scientists,
Lightning Bolt,
Lungfish,
Hardrive,
The Dirtbombs,
June of 44,
Hashim,
Lebanon Hanover,
Eden Ahbez,
Hoover,
Cal Tjader,
Nils Olav,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sound Behaviour,
The Vogues,
MDC,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.