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 Kosovo and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 marimba 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 The Dead C to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash,
The Sound,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Residents,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lou Reed,
Electric Prunes,
Althea and Donna,
Mad Mike,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Make Up,
Alton Ellis,
Severed Heads,
Stereo Dub,
Ossler,
Josef K,
Graham Central Station,
Radio Birdman,
Eli Mardock,
Marc Almond,
Television,
Sun City Girls,
Barrington Levy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Darondo,
Glambeats Corp.,
Warsaw,
Warren Ellis,
Flipper,
Can,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Juan Atkins,
Cymande,
Bobby Byrd,
Eric Copeland,
Dual Sessions,
Aural Exciters,
Livin' Joy,
The Martian,
Jeru the Damaja,
Steve Hackett,
Amon Düül,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Blancmange,
Pussy Galore,
Donald Byrd,
DJ Style,
Bill Wells,
The Neon Judgement,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Modern Lovers,
Max Romeo,
Rod Modell,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Soft Machine,
Gregory Isaacs,
Angry Samoans,
KRS-One,
The Real Kids,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.