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 Swaziland and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
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 Bill Wells to the disco 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Darondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Clarke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
The Moleskins,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Faraquet,
Babytalk,
Inner City,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Star Department,
Crime,
Flash Fearless,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ultra Naté,
Joyce Sims,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Moss Icon,
New York Dolls,
DJ Sneak,
Howard Jones,
Kas Product,
Jimmy McGriff,
Trumans Water,
Wolf Eyes,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ronan,
The Cramps,
The Fire Engines,
Qualms,
The Seeds,
Minutemen,
D'Angelo,
Letta Mbulu,
Loose Ends,
Blossom Toes,
Moby Grape,
Camouflage,
Subhumans,
Mission of Burma,
Unwound,
Pere Ubu,
Organ,
Aaron Thompson,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Birthday Party,
Jerry's Kids,
Big Daddy Kane,
Terry Callier,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Main Source,
The Last Poets,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Funkadelic,
Pantytec,
Jacques Brel,
The Evens,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.