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 Colombia and from Stockholm.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 clarinet 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 the Fania All-Stars to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scratch Acid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sight & Sound,
Tomorrow,
Faust,
Janne Schatter,
The Gap Band,
Yusef Lateef,
Porter Ricks,
Judy Mowatt,
Metal Thangz,
Crispy Ambulance,
Frankie Knuckles,
Peter and Kerry,
the Bar-Kays,
cv313,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Easy Going,
Bobby Sherman,
D'Angelo,
Lou Reed,
Ornette Coleman,
The Last Poets,
Cecil Taylor,
Boz Scaggs,
Throbbing Gristle,
David McCallum,
Index,
Gang Gang Dance,
Eric Dolphy,
Desert Stars,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Hashim,
John Coltrane,
Vladislav Delay,
Main Source,
ABBA,
Model 500,
Sugar Minott,
Nirvana,
Faraquet,
The Dirtbombs,
Jimmy McGriff,
Marmalade,
Technova,
Pharoah Sanders,
R.M.O.,
The Shadows of Knight,
CMW,
Y Pants,
Lower 48,
T.S.O.L.,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mark Hollis,
Amazonics,
The Cowsills,
June Days,
Stockholm Monsters,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Scott Walker,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.