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 Ethiopia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 organ 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 Robert Wyatt to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Suburban Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Toasters 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Freddie Wadling record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Shadows of Knight,
Derrick Morgan,
The Sound,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Brothers Johnson,
Mantronix,
Max Romeo,
Public Enemy,
The Fugs,
Ultra Naté,
Echospace,
Lower 48,
Ohio Players,
Thompson Twins,
The American Breed,
Sparks,
Rites of Spring,
Crooked Eye,
The Human League,
Robert Hood,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Neu!,
Wings,
Oblivians,
Sex Pistols,
Pole,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Reagan Youth,
Todd Terry,
EPMD,
Flipper,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
New Age Steppers,
E-Dancer,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Joe Smooth,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Loose Ends,
Massinfluence,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bang On A Can,
Infiniti,
Be Bop Deluxe,
48th St. Collective,
Fluxion,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Monks,
One Last Wish,
Qualms,
The Grass Roots,
Cecil Taylor,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bobby Womack,
The Techniques,
The Move,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Knickerbockers,
Cluster,
Dorothy Ashby,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.