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 Palau and from Milan.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 The Golliwogs to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arcadia record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marshall Jefferson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Idris Muhammad,
Fela Kuti,
These Immortal Souls,
Sandy B,
Cheater Slicks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Marc Almond,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Joey Negro,
The Star Department,
Babytalk,
Gerry Rafferty,
Outsiders,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Chrome,
Jandek,
Wings,
Make Up,
Sugar Minott,
Electric Prunes,
Stiv Bators,
Donald Byrd,
The Monks,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Nik Kershaw,
Second Layer,
The Mighty Diamonds,
New York Dolls,
Cybotron,
Rufus Thomas,
The Slits,
Duran Duran,
The Knickerbockers,
The Sonics,
Zapp,
Connie Case,
DJ Sneak,
Delta 5,
Mars,
Scrapy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jerry's Kids,
Eric B and Rakim,
Black Pus,
Jacob Miller,
Cecil Taylor,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Blues Magoos,
Flash Fearless,
E-Dancer,
The Buckinghams,
Aswad,
Minnie Riperton,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
John Cale,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Doobie Brothers,
Shoche,
Soft Machine,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.