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 Malawi and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mumbai.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Country Teasers to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Fortunes. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Lydon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
EPMD,
Livin' Joy,
Prince Buster,
Grauzone,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Moby Grape,
Monolake,
Donald Byrd,
JFA,
Ludus,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Rakim,
Organ,
Pere Ubu,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Howard Jones,
Albert Ayler,
Deadbeat,
The Fugs,
Pagans,
Jerry's Kids,
Hot Snakes,
Steve Hackett,
The Golliwogs,
Boz Scaggs,
Jimmy McGriff,
La Düsseldorf,
Max Romeo,
kango's stein massive,
Slave,
Joey Negro,
Brick,
Q and Not U,
Anthony Braxton,
Dead Boys,
Lou Reed,
Scan 7,
The Fortunes,
Loose Ends,
The Five Americans,
Skarface,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
A Flock of Seagulls,
DNA,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Index,
Y Pants,
David McCallum,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Television Personalities,
Joyce Sims,
Amazonics,
Clear Light,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Wolf Eyes,
Reuben Wilson,
Sun Ra,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig.
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.