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 Lesotho and from Lyon.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 This Heat to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Kool Moe Dee. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lebanon Hanover,
Crash Course in Science,
Tommy Roe,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Yusef Lateef,
Index,
Lower 48,
Bronski Beat,
Model 500,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Sonics,
John Coltrane,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Royal Trux,
Little Man,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bobby Byrd,
The Fire Engines,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Sparks,
Dave Gahan,
Moebius,
Wings,
Can,
Hot Snakes,
Unwound,
John Cale,
Reagan Youth,
Sugar Minott,
Blossom Toes,
The Skatalites,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Cecil Taylor,
Inner City,
Soft Machine,
Traffic Nightmare,
Matthew Bourne,
Outsiders,
the Germs,
Basic Channel,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Nik Kershaw,
Shoche,
Nico,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fela Kuti,
The Divine Comedy,
Scion,
KRS-One,
Malaria!,
Swell Maps,
H. Thieme,
The Sound,
The Mummies,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Wasted Youth,
The Leaves,
James White and The Blacks,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.