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 Monaco and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 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 Television Personalities to the crunk 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Archie Shepp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Mark Hollis,
Oblivians,
MDC,
The Blues Magoos,
Surgeon,
The Fortunes,
Drexciya,
John Coltrane,
Franke,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Rufus Thomas,
Arcadia,
Robert Hood,
Johnny Clarke,
Minnie Riperton,
kango's stein massive,
Popol Vuh,
Y Pants,
the Sonics,
Mr. Review,
Stetsasonic,
Donald Byrd,
Maleditus Sound,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Gap Band,
Warren Ellis,
Au Pairs,
Skarface,
Infiniti,
Tim Buckley,
Toni Rubio,
Danielle Patucci,
The Cowsills,
Echospace,
the Slits,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Minny Pops,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Simply Red,
The Monochrome Set,
F. McDonald,
Black Flag,
Unrelated Segments,
Boredoms,
X-Ray Spex,
Gil Scott Heron,
Faust,
Peter and Kerry,
Rekid,
Mission of Burma,
The Techniques,
Joyce Sims,
Pylon,
AZ,
The Slackers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Donny Hathaway,
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.