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 El Salvador and from Taipei.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 linndrum 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 Charles Mingus 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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Stiv Bators,
The Angels of Light,
The New Christs,
Man Parrish,
Public Image Ltd.,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Last Poets,
Radiohead,
Quadrant,
The Saints,
Rotary Connection,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Parry Music,
Von Mondo,
Inner City,
Alison Limerick,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Golliwogs,
Scion,
Zapp,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Buckinghams,
Neu!,
Crispy Ambulance,
Faraquet,
Brothers Johnson,
Cal Tjader,
Brick,
Ultra Naté,
Sex Pistols,
Essential Logic,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Soft Machine,
JFA,
Suburban Knight,
The Real Kids,
Stereo Dub,
Procol Harum,
Panda Bear,
Wings,
Gil Scott Heron,
Crash Course in Science,
Average White Band,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Derrick May,
Oblivians,
The Busters,
Faust,
Cameo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Steve Hackett,
Country Teasers,
DJ Sneak,
David Bowie,
Country Joe & The Fish,
David Axelrod,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.