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 Mali and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 synthesizer 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 John Cale to the disco 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 The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Zeros 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Knickerbockers,
Man Parrish,
Yusef Lateef,
Agent Orange,
Ice-T,
June of 44,
The Cramps,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Arcadia,
The Grass Roots,
Zero Boys,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Golliwogs,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Al Stewart,
Pet Shop Boys,
Roger Hodgson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Swell Maps,
T.S.O.L.,
Delta 5,
The Offenders,
Oblivians,
Surgeon,
Subhumans,
Letta Mbulu,
Mission of Burma,
Camouflage,
Be Bop Deluxe,
EPMD,
Interpol,
Sam Rivers,
Slick Rick,
Saccharine Trust,
Echospace,
Soft Cell,
Japan,
The Pretty Things,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Accadde A,
Wings,
Delon & Dalcan,
Marcia Griffiths,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Charles Mingus,
Make Up,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eve St. Jones,
Jacob Miller,
Public Enemy,
Pierre Henry,
Kas Product,
Trumans Water,
James White and The Blacks,
Colin Newman,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.