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 Liechtenstein and from Manila.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Todd Rundgren to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Scion. All the underground hits.
All The Stooges tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalo Schifrin,
Eve St. Jones,
Barry Ungar,
Roxy Music,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Neu!,
The Wake,
the Slits,
Swell Maps,
Delta 5,
Cameo,
The Victims,
Absolute Body Control,
The Buckinghams,
The Names,
Alison Limerick,
Ronnie Foster,
Blossom Toes,
New York Dolls,
JFA,
The Monks,
Spoonie Gee,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Crooked Eye,
Lungfish,
DJ Style,
Kurtis Blow,
Fad Gadget,
a-ha,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
These Immortal Souls,
The Index,
Depeche Mode,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
X-101,
The Blues Magoos,
Mission of Burma,
The Saints,
Soft Cell,
Fatback Band,
Connie Case,
Carl Craig,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Magazine,
Laurel Aitken,
Scratch Acid,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Grey Daturas,
Avey Tare,
The Residents,
Harpers Bizarre,
Scion,
Gong,
Pylon,
Janne Schatter,
Terry Callier,
Toni Rubio,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.