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 Kuwait and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Patti Smith to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Absolute Body Control. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Flamin' Groovies,
H. Thieme,
The Cramps,
Niagra,
The Happenings,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Misunderstood,
The Dirtbombs,
The Seeds,
Moss Icon,
DJ Sneak,
Soul Sonic Force,
Malaria!,
Simply Red,
The Smoke,
Toni Rubio,
MC5,
The Doobie Brothers,
Outsiders,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Move,
Avey Tare,
World's Most,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
KRS-One,
the Human League,
Sight & Sound,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bobby Byrd,
The Doors,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Kenny Larkin,
Hardrive,
Public Image Ltd.,
Pagans,
Terrestrial Tones,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rekid,
Erasure,
Colin Newman,
Joy Division,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Roger Hodgson,
Los Fastidios,
Crooked Eye,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Patti Smith,
Schoolly D,
Duran Duran,
Shoche,
48th St. Collective,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Hoover,
Dave Gahan,
Eric B and Rakim,
Marcia Griffiths,
Eli Mardock,
The Velvet Underground,
The Victims,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Sonics,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.