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 Ghana and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Cheater Slicks to the rap 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu. All the underground hits.
All John Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ituana 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Los Fastidios,
Lightning Bolt,
Gabor Szabo,
Shoche,
The Flesh Eaters,
Donny Hathaway,
Soft Machine,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Quadrant,
The Litter,
Todd Rundgren,
Desert Stars,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Carl Craig,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Donald Byrd,
Crime,
Kenny Larkin,
Jandek,
Wally Richardson,
Mad Mike,
Sight & Sound,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Fuzztones,
Sam Rivers,
Junior Murvin,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Wire,
Chrome,
Boredoms,
Faust,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Flamin' Groovies,
F. McDonald,
Deakin,
Fluxion,
Dead Boys,
Faraquet,
Loose Ends,
Ten City,
Little Man,
Radio Birdman,
Mr. Review,
Fela Kuti,
Sällskapet,
Interpol,
Brick,
Rod Modell,
Severed Heads,
Jeru the Damaja,
In Retrospect,
Camouflage,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
E-Dancer,
Average White Band,
The Slackers,
Barry Ungar,
Kas Product,
Neil Young,
June of 44,
The Last Poets,
the Bar-Kays,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.