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 Equatorial Guinea and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Seoul.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Khruangbin to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Metal Thangz. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reuben Wilson 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rahsaan Roland Kirk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Scrapy,
The Music Machine,
Cymande,
Lyres,
Essential Logic,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Al Stewart,
the Slits,
The Golliwogs,
The Flesh Eaters,
Minor Threat,
Robert Wyatt,
Stiv Bators,
Todd Terry,
Babytalk,
Sound Behaviour,
Chris Corsano,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sugar Minott,
Johnny Clarke,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Depeche Mode,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Guru Guru,
Amon Düül II,
Mark Hollis,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Public Enemy,
Lou Christie,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Real Kids,
Donny Hathaway,
The Cure,
The Monochrome Set,
Laurel Aitken,
Brass Construction,
Whodini,
Half Japanese,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Offenders,
Fela Kuti,
the Normal,
Loose Ends,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Crash Course in Science,
Zapp,
Nik Kershaw,
Bush Tetras,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
the Soft Cell,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Arthur Verocai,
Pole,
Trumans Water,
Yaz,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Man Eating Sloth,
Isaac Hayes,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.