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 Brunei and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare 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 Robert Hood to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heavy D & The Boyz 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
Sällskapet,
Shoche,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Echospace,
The Dead C,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Judy Mowatt,
Grauzone,
The Last Poets,
Fugazi,
Chrome,
Hashim,
Morten Harket,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
10cc,
the Human League,
Banda Bassotti,
Nils Olav,
Josef K,
Rod Modell,
The Gories,
Bobby Byrd,
OOIOO,
Popol Vuh,
Niagra,
Sex Pistols,
Sonny Sharrock,
Tom Boy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bluetip,
Depeche Mode,
The Dave Clark Five,
Delta 5,
Scrapy,
UT,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Porter Ricks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Aural Exciters,
Q and Not U,
Pussy Galore,
Television Personalities,
kango's stein massive,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Barbara Tucker,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Quadrant,
Animal Collective,
Avey Tare,
Magma,
Qualms,
Amon Düül II,
the Swans,
Minutemen,
June of 44,
The Skatalites,
Angry Samoans,
Cheater Slicks,
Crispian St. Peters,
Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye.
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.