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 Cape Verde and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Grandmaster Flash to the jazz 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 Kool Moe Dee. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fortunes 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy's Rubber Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kevin Saunderson,
Flamin' Groovies,
One Last Wish,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fela Kuti,
Moss Icon,
Suicide,
The Monochrome Set,
X-102,
Cheater Slicks,
The Residents,
MDC,
The Last Poets,
the Normal,
The Human League,
Sparks,
Malaria!,
48th St. Collective,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Mantronix,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Martian,
Das Ding,
Johnny Clarke,
Alice Coltrane,
H. Thieme,
Ponytail,
The Moody Blues,
Niagra,
Parry Music,
David Axelrod,
Country Teasers,
This Heat,
The Doors,
AZ,
Iggy Pop,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bill Near,
Bobby Sherman,
Barbara Tucker,
Cameo,
Glambeats Corp.,
Can,
Junior Murvin,
Slick Rick,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Smoke,
John Cale,
Rod Modell,
John Foxx,
Index,
James White and The Blacks,
Lalann,
Barry Ungar,
Gong,
The Fall,
Flipper,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Robert Görl,
Leonard Cohen,
Sex Pistols,
the Human League,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.