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 Tajikistan and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the punk 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 Aural Exciters. All the underground hits.
All The Trojans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Underground Resistance,
K-Klass,
Flipper,
Scratch Acid,
Boredoms,
Dorothy Ashby,
Judy Mowatt,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Offenders,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Marshall Jefferson,
Negative Approach,
Yazoo,
Danielle Patucci,
Bootsy Collins,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rhythm & Sound,
Yaz,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Raincoats,
Pole,
Marine Girls,
The Count Five,
Warsaw,
Suicide,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Scientists,
Tears for Fears,
Junior Murvin,
Laurel Aitken,
Supertramp,
La Düsseldorf,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Star Department,
Oblivians,
Warren Ellis,
Avey Tare,
Sparks,
Ludus,
The Blues Magoos,
Yusef Lateef,
Hashim,
X-101,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Last Poets,
Barrington Levy,
Monolake,
Scott Walker,
Minutemen,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Idris Muhammad,
China Crisis,
Motorama,
Chris Corsano,
Minnie Riperton,
In Retrospect,
Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys.
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.