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 Eritrea and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 In Retrospect to the jazz 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 The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Invisible record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
Black Pus,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sugar Minott,
Graham Central Station,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Glenn Branca,
MDC,
June of 44,
Skarface,
The Modern Lovers,
Ornette Coleman,
Wings,
Babytalk,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Move,
Matthew Halsall,
H. Thieme,
Suicide,
Ohio Players,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Terry Callier,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
John Coltrane,
Charles Mingus,
Lyres,
Y Pants,
La Düsseldorf,
Bobby Byrd,
Leonard Cohen,
Maurizio,
Fatback Band,
Vainqueur,
Sun City Girls,
Johnny Clarke,
Radio Birdman,
Cameo,
Rosa Yemen,
Flash Fearless,
Lou Reed,
Marc Almond,
Popol Vuh,
Tim Buckley,
Public Enemy,
The Flesh Eaters,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Walker Brothers,
Subhumans,
the Bar-Kays,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Masters at Work,
Television,
Andrew Hill,
Nico,
R.M.O.,
the Sonics,
Qualms,
Kas Product,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.