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 Tunisia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Colin Newman to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott Heron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
The Sonics,
Thee Headcoats,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Last Poets,
Hot Snakes,
Blake Baxter,
Black Bananas,
Arthur Verocai,
Scratch Acid,
Clear Light,
Shuggie Otis,
Toni Rubio,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Kinks,
Peter & Gordon,
Circle Jerks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Adolescents,
The Tremeloes,
Animal Collective,
The Moody Blues,
the Sonics,
Faraquet,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Smoke,
E-Dancer,
Mars,
Pole,
Gong,
Funky Four + One,
World's Most,
Parry Music,
The Human League,
Cymande,
kango's stein massive,
X-101,
Rosa Yemen,
Average White Band,
Organ,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Harmonia,
The Buckinghams,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ituana,
Suicide,
Yaz,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Unrelated Segments,
Wings,
The Slackers,
Idris Muhammad,
Y Pants,
Slick Rick,
The Monochrome Set,
Marcia Griffiths,
Main Source,
Loose Ends,
Flipper,
Sällskapet,
T. Rex,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.