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 Niger and from Philadelphia.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 48th St. Collective to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 güiro and a mellotron 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 clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ohio Players,
The Doors,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ornette Coleman,
Johnny Clarke,
This Heat,
The Gap Band,
Nas,
Alice Coltrane,
the Germs,
Bill Near,
Soft Machine,
Nico,
Heaven 17,
Easy Going,
Second Layer,
Wire,
The Black Dice,
Clear Light,
Lakeside,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Traffic Nightmare,
Cecil Taylor,
the Normal,
Sight & Sound,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Brand Nubian,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Adolescents,
Monks,
Smog,
Stockholm Monsters,
K-Klass,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Erykah Badu,
The Birthday Party,
Niagra,
Motorama,
Crash Course in Science,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ronnie Foster,
Donny Hathaway,
Section 25,
DNA,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Monolake,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Robert Hood,
Soft Cell,
Gichy Dan,
Juan Atkins,
Peter and Kerry,
The Wake,
Sun Ra,
The Martian,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.