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 Chile and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Brass Construction to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All Heavy D & The Boyz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
CMW,
John Foxx,
the Soft Cell,
Donny Hathaway,
Shoche,
Crispy Ambulance,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Severed Heads,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
the Slits,
Quantec,
T.S.O.L.,
Maleditus Sound,
Blossom Toes,
China Crisis,
The Doors,
The Gories,
Pere Ubu,
Gang Starr,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fad Gadget,
Animal Collective,
Niagra,
the Germs,
Wire,
Wings,
Malaria!,
Crooked Eye,
Davy DMX,
Eden Ahbez,
the Swans,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Vladislav Delay,
Talk Talk,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Velvet Underground,
Grey Daturas,
Harmonia,
Arthur Verocai,
Roxy Music,
F. McDonald,
Tres Demented,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Robert Görl,
Black Pus,
La Düsseldorf,
Urselle,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Barrington Levy,
Procol Harum,
Public Image Ltd.,
Donald Byrd,
Pierre Henry,
Ronan,
Arab on Radar,
Ituana,
The Skatalites,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.