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 Djibouti and from Calgary.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Monolake to the rap 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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All The Trojans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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?
One Last Wish,
Pierre Henry,
Scion,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Selecter,
Crispy Ambulance,
Michelle Simonal,
the Association,
Sällskapet,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Barrington Levy,
The Tremeloes,
Godley & Creme,
Joey Negro,
The Stooges,
the Sonics,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fela Kuti,
Mr. Review,
Sixth Finger,
Fear,
Boredoms,
Sound Behaviour,
Arthur Verocai,
Scott Walker,
Robert Hood,
Johnny Osbourne,
Public Enemy,
DJ Style,
Harry Pussy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Desert Stars,
The Star Department,
Joe Finger,
The Trojans,
Slick Rick,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rosa Yemen,
Drexciya,
Arcadia,
The Alarm Clocks,
Khruangbin,
Junior Murvin,
the Swans,
Guru Guru,
Eli Mardock,
The Neon Judgement,
Massinfluence,
Au Pairs,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Isaac Hayes,
LL Cool J,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Alton Ellis,
Mo-Dettes,
Skarface,
The Associates,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.