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 Korea South and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Shanghai.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All DJ Style tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Sixth Finger,
Parry Music,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The American Breed,
The Monochrome Set,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Wire,
Franke,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Radio Birdman,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Chris Corsano,
The Residents,
Neu!,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Black Moon,
Amon Düül,
K-Klass,
Camouflage,
Godley & Creme,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Skarface,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Slick Rick,
Alison Limerick,
Dark Day,
Von Mondo,
DNA,
June of 44,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Essential Logic,
Massinfluence,
Suburban Knight,
Unwound,
Archie Shepp,
Harry Pussy,
Boredoms,
Chrome,
Isaac Hayes,
Soulsonic Force,
Gabor Szabo,
Agent Orange,
Magma,
Pussy Galore,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Dennis Brown,
Mr. Review,
A Certain Ratio,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Derrick May,
Symarip,
Colin Newman,
Newcleus,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Slackers,
Khruangbin,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
China Crisis,
Black Bananas,
Gichy Dan,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Porter Ricks,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.