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 Vietnam and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Hasil Adkins to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Al Stewart. All the underground hits.
All Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Danielle Patucci record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Deepchord,
The Golliwogs,
Zapp,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bill Near,
Delon & Dalcan,
Brick,
Guru Guru,
Boz Scaggs,
Pussy Galore,
The Kinks,
Mantronix,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Soft Cell,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Mummies,
Von Mondo,
The Wake,
The Blackbyrds,
T. Rex,
Liliput,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Los Fastidios,
The Five Americans,
U.S. Maple,
Nick Fraelich,
Arthur Verocai,
Ponytail,
Minny Pops,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Grass Roots,
Minor Threat,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Index,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Mars,
Heaven 17,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
New Age Steppers,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Real Kids,
Camouflage,
Eli Mardock,
Motorama,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lower 48,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Arab on Radar,
Drexciya,
Essential Logic,
Rapeman,
Yazoo,
Ludus,
The Neon Judgement,
the Germs,
Fela Kuti,
Colin Newman,
Jacob Miller,
The Mojo Men,
Radio Birdman,
Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound.
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.