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 Kazakhstan and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the oboe 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 EPMD to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Stetsasonic. All the underground hits.
All The Doors tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Popol Vuh record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
The American Breed,
Pulsallama,
Blancmange,
The Gladiators,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Grauzone,
The Golliwogs,
Aswad,
Dennis Brown,
Jacques Brel,
Lindisfarne,
Guru Guru,
the Normal,
Johnny Clarke,
Aloha Tigers,
The Fuzztones,
48th St. Collective,
The Monks,
Vainqueur,
Minor Threat,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lou Reed,
Con Funk Shun,
Tres Demented,
Warren Ellis,
Popol Vuh,
The Searchers,
Depeche Mode,
The Seeds,
Country Teasers,
Bronski Beat,
Spandau Ballet,
Wally Richardson,
Joey Negro,
Babytalk,
Shuggie Otis,
Simply Red,
Bush Tetras,
the Slits,
Thee Headcoats,
The Misunderstood,
It's A Beautiful Day,
DJ Style,
Desert Stars,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Kerrie Biddell,
Marc Almond,
Technova,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sonny Sharrock,
Symarip,
Ituana,
Brand Nubian,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Audionom,
The Standells,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.