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 Paraguay and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam to the funk 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 The Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lakeside,
Khruangbin,
Bluetip,
the Fania All-Stars,
Tom Boy,
Rites of Spring,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Fire Engines,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Angels of Light,
Anakelly,
Derrick May,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Scientists,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Kevin Saunderson,
Eric B and Rakim,
Minnie Riperton,
The Knickerbockers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gabor Szabo,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Associates,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Black Flag,
The Leaves,
KRS-One,
Sun Ra,
Joyce Sims,
Pulsallama,
X-102,
Graham Central Station,
The Vogues,
Dave Gahan,
K-Klass,
The Dirtbombs,
Malaria!,
Suburban Knight,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sam Rivers,
The Shadows of Knight,
a-ha,
James White and The Blacks,
Alphaville,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Fat Boys,
Davy DMX,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
This Heat,
the Swans,
The Alarm Clocks,
Liliput,
The Skatalites,
Steve Hackett,
Angry Samoans,
Scrapy,
Lindisfarne,
Shuggie Otis,
Susan Cadogan,
Juan Atkins,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.