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 Poland and from Calgary.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Boogie Down Productions to the rock 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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All Pole tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
China Crisis,
The Fugs,
The Cowsills,
Aural Exciters,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gregory Isaacs,
Johnny Clarke,
Ossler,
Masters at Work,
Sound Behaviour,
The Techniques,
The Golliwogs,
Patti Smith,
Au Pairs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
DJ Sneak,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bronski Beat,
Erykah Badu,
Maurizio,
Panda Bear,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sandy B,
T.S.O.L.,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jeff Lynne,
Joensuu 1685,
Cecil Taylor,
Second Layer,
Average White Band,
Newcleus,
David Bowie,
Curtis Mayfield,
Mantronix,
The Dirtbombs,
Pylon,
The Fortunes,
Ultimate Spinach,
Public Enemy,
The Monochrome Set,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Last Poets,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ronnie Foster,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Sonics,
Prince Buster,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Leaves,
Wolf Eyes,
Severed Heads,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Vainqueur,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Doobie Brothers,
Pagans,
The Move,
Angry Samoans,
8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy.
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.