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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Robert Wyatt to the rock 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 Zapp. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lafayette Afro Rock Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dual Sessions,
Suburban Knight,
Ken Boothe,
H. Thieme,
Fela Kuti,
Make Up,
Sight & Sound,
Spoonie Gee,
Maurizio,
Das Ding,
Scratch Acid,
The Durutti Column,
The Cramps,
Blossom Toes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sex Pistols,
Andrew Hill,
Eric B and Rakim,
Oneida,
Don Cherry,
Pere Ubu,
Barry Ungar,
Masters at Work,
Gang Starr,
John Foxx,
Brick,
Stockholm Monsters,
Johnny Clarke,
Khruangbin,
Ituana,
The Seeds,
The Zeros,
Gabor Szabo,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Oblivians,
Jimmy McGriff,
Barclay James Harvest,
Traffic Nightmare,
UT,
Girls At Our Best!,
Boz Scaggs,
The Pop Group,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
cv313,
Barrington Levy,
Soul II Soul,
the Swans,
Von Mondo,
the Sonics,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Detroit Cobras,
Desert Stars,
Patti Smith,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Severed Heads,
Japan,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Walker Brothers,
The Fuzztones,
Robert Hood,
Heaven 17,
Tubeway Army,
Loose Ends,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.