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 Belize and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 oboe 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 Unwound to the grunge 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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All Arab on Radar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siglo XX record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gastr Del Sol,
Livin' Joy,
Gang of Four,
Cal Tjader,
Michelle Simonal,
Ronnie Foster,
Reuben Wilson,
ABC,
L. Decosne,
The Monks,
Moss Icon,
Spoonie Gee,
June of 44,
Terry Callier,
Wire,
David Axelrod,
Gang Green,
Robert Wyatt,
The Durutti Column,
Magazine,
Cybotron,
Wings,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jacques Brel,
48th St. Collective,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Schoolly D,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
X-Ray Spex,
The Flesh Eaters,
Max Romeo,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Anakelly,
Colin Newman,
Crispy Ambulance,
Dark Day,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Fat Boys,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Index,
Pharoah Sanders,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Toasters,
Flipper,
Grauzone,
Brick,
Aural Exciters,
Fear,
Bush Tetras,
The Cowsills,
The Gun Club,
U.S. Maple,
Arcadia,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Surgeon,
Marc Almond,
Davy DMX,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.