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 Copenhagen.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Liliput to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Swell Maps. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Bourne,
The Birthday Party,
Moebius,
Derrick May,
Brand Nubian,
Nick Fraelich,
The Zeros,
Ultravox,
Rufus Thomas,
Glenn Branca,
Kool Moe Dee,
Slick Rick,
Lakeside,
a-ha,
the Swans,
Simply Red,
Dennis Brown,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ultimate Spinach,
Delon & Dalcan,
Harmonia,
Rod Modell,
Andrew Hill,
Oblivians,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Cure,
Scratch Acid,
Gang Gang Dance,
Rekid,
The Wake,
Fugazi,
Shoche,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Josef K,
Malaria!,
Vainqueur,
Marine Girls,
In Retrospect,
Minnie Riperton,
Sound Behaviour,
Gang Green,
Can,
ABC,
Terrestrial Tones,
New York Dolls,
Magma,
Smog,
Rakim,
Bill Wells,
Von Mondo,
The Saints,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Janne Schatter,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Invisible,
Camouflage,
Bad Manners,
Index,
The Last Poets,
Whodini,
Jerry's Kids,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.