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 Luxembourg and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Last Poets to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
Ornette Coleman,
Rotary Connection,
Porter Ricks,
Mr. Review,
LL Cool J,
Aaron Thompson,
Accadde A,
Camberwell Now,
Tommy Roe,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Gories,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
E-Dancer,
Big Daddy Kane,
Stockholm Monsters,
X-102,
Can,
Symarip,
Harry Pussy,
Essential Logic,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Schoolly D,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Idris Muhammad,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bootsy Collins,
Jacques Brel,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Birthday Party,
The Names,
Lebanon Hanover,
DNA,
Deadbeat,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Black Sheep,
Terrestrial Tones,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Amon Düül,
Kerri Chandler,
Pierre Henry,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bob Dylan,
Eric Copeland,
Wolf Eyes,
Piero Umiliani,
Loose Ends,
Sonic Youth,
Monks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kurtis Blow,
the Germs,
Dennis Brown,
JFA,
Warsaw,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Severed Heads,
The Leaves,
Lightning Bolt,
Sun Ra,
Brick,
Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy.
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.