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 Hungary and from Mexico City.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Madrid.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Mad Mike to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
Sound Behaviour,
Soulsonic Force,
Ultra Naté,
The Wake,
Maleditus Sound,
the Normal,
Eli Mardock,
Negative Approach,
Matthew Bourne,
R.M.O.,
Bronski Beat,
Amon Düül II,
Joyce Sims,
Crispy Ambulance,
Max Romeo,
Pussy Galore,
Sixth Finger,
Lou Christie,
Grauzone,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bob Dylan,
Motorama,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Black Dice,
the Bar-Kays,
Icehouse,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Panda Bear,
Glambeats Corp.,
Saccharine Trust,
Guru Guru,
Stockholm Monsters,
Michelle Simonal,
the Human League,
Marvin Gaye,
Colin Newman,
Japan,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
X-102,
Bad Manners,
Warren Ellis,
Brand Nubian,
Tears for Fears,
Pere Ubu,
Laurel Aitken,
Marine Girls,
Scientists,
Albert Ayler,
Janne Schatter,
Minor Threat,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bill Wells,
Bauhaus,
Bobby Sherman,
Angry Samoans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Mojo Men,
This Heat,
Eric B and Rakim,
DJ Sneak,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.