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 Liberia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Skarface to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Yusef Lateef. All the underground hits.
All 8 Eyed Spy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Steve Hackett,
June Days,
T.S.O.L.,
James Chance & The Contortions,
New York Dolls,
Minny Pops,
Y Pants,
Graham Central Station,
Chris & Cosey,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Mars,
Faraquet,
Mr. Review,
Throbbing Gristle,
Minutemen,
Arcadia,
Spoonie Gee,
Scion,
The Mummies,
Public Enemy,
Jawbox,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Skatalites,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bush Tetras,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Young Marble Giants,
Skarface,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Donny Hathaway,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Babytalk,
Janne Schatter,
Procol Harum,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Scrapy,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Deadbeat,
Drexciya,
Interpol,
Rod Modell,
The Buckinghams,
Blake Baxter,
This Heat,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Black Pus,
U.S. Maple,
Section 25,
Soul II Soul,
Popol Vuh,
The Divine Comedy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Knickerbockers,
Groovy Waters,
Peter and Kerry,
Roger Hodgson,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Slits,
Ralphi Rosario,
Altered Images,
Cymande,
Fela Kuti,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.