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 Portugal and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Gerry Rafferty to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Main Source. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Little Man record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Lydon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers,
The Velvet Underground,
John Cale,
Hasil Adkins,
The Moleskins,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eric B and Rakim,
Matthew Bourne,
E-Dancer,
Tres Demented,
The Count Five,
Easy Going,
the Soft Cell,
The Pretty Things,
Nas,
The United States of America,
Rakim,
Harry Pussy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bronski Beat,
The Skatalites,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Fear,
The Slits,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Thompson Twins,
New Age Steppers,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Alton Ellis,
Camberwell Now,
Piero Umiliani,
Blake Baxter,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Q and Not U,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Mummies,
James White and The Blacks,
Cecil Taylor,
Arcadia,
Nils Olav,
Sexual Harrassment,
MDC,
Chris Corsano,
Pharoah Sanders,
KRS-One,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Second Layer,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Kaleidoscope,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bush Tetras,
Half Japanese,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bob Dylan,
Gastr Del Sol,
Grandmaster Flash,
Drive Like Jehu,
Monks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.