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 Cameroon and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson to the grime 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious Big And Bone Thugs 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
Ken Boothe,
MC5,
Anakelly,
10cc,
Bizarre Inc.,
Jandek,
Thompson Twins,
Mad Mike,
Organ,
Steve Hackett,
Goldenarms,
Gil Scott Heron,
John Holt,
Ohio Players,
Dorothy Ashby,
JFA,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Faraquet,
Masters at Work,
Television Personalities,
Toni Rubio,
Clear Light,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Gladiators,
Arab on Radar,
Basic Channel,
Sandy B,
The Last Poets,
Ituana,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
John Foxx,
Sarah Menescal,
Traffic Nightmare,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Knickerbockers,
Eden Ahbez,
The Flesh Eaters,
Blossom Toes,
R.M.O.,
Bauhaus,
Index,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Fortunes,
Prince Buster,
Make Up,
Accadde A,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jerry's Kids,
Bill Wells,
Malaria!,
The Alarm Clocks,
Saccharine Trust,
Interpol,
The Cowsills,
T. Rex,
Banda Bassotti,
Joy Division,
Bob Dylan,
New Order,
The Dead C,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.