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 Macedonia and from Paris.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Stockholm Monsters to the rap 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cameo 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ken Boothe,
Alton Ellis,
Barrington Levy,
the Human League,
The Toasters,
The Cure,
Joe Finger,
Fear,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ice-T,
Oneida,
Joyce Sims,
Tropical Tobacco,
Todd Terry,
Young Marble Giants,
Basic Channel,
Harry Pussy,
The Dirtbombs,
Kurtis Blow,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Saints,
Andrew Hill,
Danielle Patucci,
Infiniti,
The Divine Comedy,
The Black Dice,
Absolute Body Control,
Faust,
Black Bananas,
Bootsy Collins,
Los Fastidios,
Bobby Sherman,
David McCallum,
Darondo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Boz Scaggs,
Deakin,
Unwound,
Barry Ungar,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Idris Muhammad,
Rapeman,
Y Pants,
Althea and Donna,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Martian,
David Bowie,
Jesper Dahlback,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Hasil Adkins,
FM Einheit,
The Moleskins,
LL Cool J,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Steve Hackett,
The Victims,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
KRS-One,
Glenn Branca,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.