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 France and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Woodstock.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Eric B and Rakim to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Jimmy McGriff. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boogie Down Productions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Marine Girls,
The Real Kids,
Davy DMX,
Grandmaster Flash,
Rakim,
Tubeway Army,
Derrick Morgan,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Last Poets,
Warren Ellis,
Gang of Four,
Unrelated Segments,
Magazine,
Glenn Branca,
Camberwell Now,
Jimmy McGriff,
Deakin,
Heaven 17,
Lower 48,
Archie Shepp,
Terrestrial Tones,
Camouflage,
Steve Hackett,
Tommy Roe,
Motorama,
MC5,
Reuben Wilson,
Whodini,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Niagra,
The J.B.'s,
Cameo,
Icehouse,
Pantaleimon,
John Foxx,
Con Funk Shun,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Soul Sonic Force,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bad Manners,
Cheater Slicks,
Marvin Gaye,
Mars,
Joe Finger,
Quadrant,
Moebius,
Suicide,
David Axelrod,
Make Up,
Alice Coltrane,
The Monochrome Set,
the Swans,
Index,
Alison Limerick,
Talk Talk,
Arab on Radar,
Ludus,
Unwound,
Subhumans,
Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt.
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.