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 Mexico and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 The Slackers to the grunge 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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
World's Most,
Kas Product,
the Bar-Kays,
Johnny Clarke,
Chris & Cosey,
Darondo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sun City Girls,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Mad Mike,
The Monks,
Basic Channel,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sarah Menescal,
Severed Heads,
Matthew Bourne,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Misunderstood,
Barry Ungar,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Danielle Patucci,
Matthew Halsall,
Harmonia,
The Pop Group,
The Walker Brothers,
Sandy B,
Bobby Byrd,
Pantaleimon,
Janne Schatter,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Chris Corsano,
Cameo,
The Pretty Things,
the Association,
Porter Ricks,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Martian,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Mr. Review,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
DNA,
Tres Demented,
Soul Sonic Force,
Suicide,
Morten Harket,
Lou Reed,
The Cowsills,
Boz Scaggs,
The Blackbyrds,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
T. Rex,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lalann,
Simply Red,
Terry Callier,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Royal Trux,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rufus Thomas,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.