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 Niger and from Seoul.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Madrid.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Procol Harum to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chris Corsano record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
Bang On A Can,
Ken Boothe,
Suicide,
T. Rex,
Wasted Youth,
Dennis Brown,
PIL,
Camberwell Now,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sällskapet,
Blake Baxter,
Fela Kuti,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Q and Not U,
Jesper Dahlback,
Trumans Water,
The Durutti Column,
Tears for Fears,
Nico,
Eric B and Rakim,
a-ha,
The Real Kids,
Pantaleimon,
Jandek,
Amon Düül,
Fluxion,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Yellowson,
The Smiths,
Boogie Down Productions,
Frankie Knuckles,
Big Daddy Kane,
Negative Approach,
Scratch Acid,
the Sonics,
Byron Stingily,
Eli Mardock,
Graham Central Station,
Lalann,
Jeff Mills,
Alton Ellis,
Nik Kershaw,
Todd Terry,
Ultimate Spinach,
Hoover,
The Gladiators,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Interpol,
Derrick May,
Parry Music,
The Flesh Eaters,
Traffic Nightmare,
Alice Coltrane,
Laurel Aitken,
Cal Tjader,
ABC,
R.M.O.,
The Doobie Brothers,
Los Fastidios,
the Normal,
Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza.
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.