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 Georgia and from Tehran.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fat Boys to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All John Holt 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 crunk 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 harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yaz,
Gichy Dan,
Kool Moe Dee,
Can,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Monks,
Surgeon,
Fugazi,
Flamin' Groovies,
Interpol,
The Move,
FM Einheit,
Harry Pussy,
The J.B.'s,
Jesper Dahlback,
Harmonia,
Pierre Henry,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Section 25,
Accadde A,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Subhumans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Make Up,
Brass Construction,
Godley & Creme,
Man Parrish,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ituana,
Ludus,
Mandrill,
Second Layer,
Intrusion,
Amazonics,
James White and The Blacks,
Ossler,
Wolf Eyes,
Fat Boys,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Crash Course in Science,
The Velvet Underground,
Country Teasers,
The Dirtbombs,
Chris & Cosey,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Mummies,
The Cowsills,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Chris Corsano,
Don Cherry,
Cecil Taylor,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sound Behaviour,
Skarface,
Crooked Eye,
Yellowson,
CMW,
Cal Tjader,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.