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 Nepal and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gabor Szabo to the techno 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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All The Fortunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare 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 mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pylon,
Unwound,
Sight & Sound,
Gichy Dan,
Rakim,
Robert Görl,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Shadows of Knight,
Iggy Pop,
Banda Bassotti,
Scrapy,
Bobby Byrd,
The Gun Club,
Nick Fraelich,
Lindisfarne,
Sparks,
Jeru the Damaja,
10cc,
Glenn Branca,
Zero Boys,
Leonard Cohen,
Skriet,
The Barracudas,
the Human League,
Pulsallama,
Crooked Eye,
Tres Demented,
Brand Nubian,
Robert Wyatt,
Joey Negro,
Bob Dylan,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Seeds,
Patti Smith,
Interpol,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Last Poets,
Motorama,
MDC,
Rod Modell,
In Retrospect,
Harry Pussy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rosa Yemen,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rufus Thomas,
Tubeway Army,
Gang of Four,
Fatback Band,
Absolute Body Control,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Amazonics,
Trumans Water,
The Index,
Popol Vuh,
Nation of Ulysses,
Porter Ricks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sixth Finger,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.