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 Niger and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the theremin 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 Sandy B to the rock 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 Brass Construction. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marshall Jefferson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Thee Headcoats,
Robert Wyatt,
Bronski Beat,
Gang Gang Dance,
China Crisis,
The Selecter,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Techniques,
Cymande,
One Last Wish,
Stetsasonic,
Y Pants,
The Litter,
Ten City,
Skaos,
T. Rex,
Wolf Eyes,
Ralphi Rosario,
Hardrive,
Boredoms,
Chrome,
the Normal,
Barbara Tucker,
Yazoo,
The Walker Brothers,
Tubeway Army,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Janne Schatter,
Junior Murvin,
Second Layer,
Don Cherry,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Hashim,
Bad Manners,
The Smiths,
Angry Samoans,
Blossom Toes,
Grandmaster Flash,
L. Decosne,
Darondo,
Lungfish,
KRS-One,
Amazonics,
Camouflage,
U.S. Maple,
The Index,
Soulsonic Force,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lyres,
Kurtis Blow,
Jeff Mills,
Rapeman,
Black Flag,
Laurel Aitken,
Erykah Badu,
Andrew Hill,
The Associates,
John Holt,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.