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 Iraq and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
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 Agent Orange to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 EPMD. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Adolescents,
the Human League,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sight & Sound,
Marmalade,
Moby Grape,
Nik Kershaw,
Desert Stars,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bush Tetras,
The Gories,
Rufus Thomas,
Fad Gadget,
Reuben Wilson,
Sandy B,
Eve St. Jones,
Marcia Griffiths,
Radio Birdman,
Scientists,
Isaac Hayes,
Mantronix,
Pet Shop Boys,
In Retrospect,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Velvet Underground,
Pussy Galore,
Zero Boys,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Average White Band,
Animal Collective,
The Pop Group,
The Offenders,
Severed Heads,
Aural Exciters,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rod Modell,
Symarip,
James White and The Blacks,
Barry Ungar,
K-Klass,
Gil Scott Heron,
Accadde A,
Oblivians,
Eli Mardock,
FM Einheit,
Los Fastidios,
The Sound,
B.T. Express,
Chris Corsano,
Pantytec,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gong,
The Modern Lovers,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Simply Red,
Anthony Braxton,
Kool Moe Dee,
Kas Product,
Shuggie Otis,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.