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 Canada and from New York.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The United States of America to the funk 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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All Malaria! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Los Fastidios record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Invisible,
Simply Red,
Scrapy,
Underground Resistance,
the Soft Cell,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Zapp,
Masters at Work,
Sixth Finger,
Schoolly D,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Electric Prunes,
Fugazi,
Mandrill,
World's Most,
Flamin' Groovies,
Dennis Brown,
Wolf Eyes,
The Real Kids,
The Modern Lovers,
Little Man,
Sällskapet,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Arthur Verocai,
Spandau Ballet,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bobby Womack,
Inner City,
Oblivians,
Duran Duran,
Bush Tetras,
cv313,
Morten Harket,
Avey Tare,
Hoover,
Charles Mingus,
David Bowie,
Rites of Spring,
Maleditus Sound,
John Lydon,
Fat Boys,
PIL,
Quadrant,
The Skatalites,
Essential Logic,
Davy DMX,
Qualms,
K-Klass,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Ultimate Spinach,
Deepchord,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Blancmange,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Offenders,
Half Japanese,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ponytail,
Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls.
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.