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 Swaziland and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Lyres to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
AZ,
Roy Ayers,
Procol Harum,
Nation of Ulysses,
Unwound,
the Slits,
Popol Vuh,
Sonny Sharrock,
Fat Boys,
Tubeway Army,
Pere Ubu,
Fad Gadget,
Max Romeo,
Howard Jones,
Hashim,
Blossom Toes,
The Leaves,
The Five Americans,
The Cramps,
Grey Daturas,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Eddi Front,
Harry Pussy,
Eve St. Jones,
F. McDonald,
Schoolly D,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Qualms,
Loose Ends,
Brothers Johnson,
Nirvana,
Dennis Brown,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Residents,
Bronski Beat,
Yellowson,
The Golliwogs,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
DNA,
Oblivians,
Davy DMX,
Scratch Acid,
The Count Five,
The Searchers,
John Cale,
Television,
The Barracudas,
The Black Dice,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Newcleus,
Fatback Band,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Japan,
The Blackbyrds,
the Swans,
The Beau Brummels,
Dead Boys,
Section 25,
These Immortal Souls,
Shuggie Otis,
Robert Wyatt,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane.
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.