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 Nauru and from Madrid.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 clarinet 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 The Slackers to the techno 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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All the Association tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thompson Twins,
The Music Machine,
Deakin,
John Holt,
Thee Headcoats,
the Human League,
Buzzcocks,
Isaac Hayes,
Black Bananas,
Barrington Levy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Tremeloes,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Scott Walker,
Rod Modell,
Mission of Burma,
The Alarm Clocks,
Blossom Toes,
Mandrill,
The Black Dice,
Q65,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bang On A Can,
Jeru the Damaja,
F. McDonald,
Junior Murvin,
Drive Like Jehu,
James White and The Blacks,
Zapp,
Ituana,
Underground Resistance,
Ossler,
Scan 7,
The Saints,
Sly & The Family Stone,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Supertramp,
Qualms,
Donald Byrd,
The Five Americans,
Soft Cell,
Tubeway Army,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Make Up,
Fugazi,
Pantytec,
T.S.O.L.,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
H. Thieme,
New Order,
Grey Daturas,
The Divine Comedy,
Stiv Bators,
Johnny Clarke,
Cabaret Voltaire,
T. Rex,
The Leaves,
KRS-One,
Bob Dylan,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.