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 Mauritania and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Dirtbombs to the crunk 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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All 8 Eyed Spy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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?
Gil Scott Heron,
The Litter,
Altered Images,
Metal Thangz,
Arab on Radar,
Sound Behaviour,
Lou Christie,
Jeff Mills,
X-102,
Fugazi,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Buckinghams,
Cameo,
The Moleskins,
Fat Boys,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Nick Fraelich,
Groovy Waters,
Rod Modell,
Laurel Aitken,
The Flesh Eaters,
Unwound,
The Black Dice,
Gabor Szabo,
Magma,
the Germs,
F. McDonald,
Ken Boothe,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Kinks,
Hardrive,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Oneida,
The Gories,
Soft Machine,
Freddie Wadling,
Audionom,
La Düsseldorf,
Charles Mingus,
Half Japanese,
Letta Mbulu,
John Cale,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Harry Pussy,
Second Layer,
The Beau Brummels,
Banda Bassotti,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kool Moe Dee,
Blancmange,
Intrusion,
Prince Buster,
Marvin Gaye,
The Happenings,
The Doors,
Mandrill,
The Skatalites,
Livin' Joy,
Newcleus,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.