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 Dominica 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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Manchester.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 John Holt to the rock 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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Gong,
Spoonie Gee,
Soft Cell,
Skarface,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Black Bananas,
Gang Green,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Mo-Dettes,
Robert Hood,
Brothers Johnson,
Rakim,
Surgeon,
OOIOO,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lebanon Hanover,
Eric Dolphy,
Joensuu 1685,
B.T. Express,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Warsaw,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Rosa Yemen,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lungfish,
The Pretty Things,
K-Klass,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Quantec,
the Swans,
Jeff Lynne,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Moleskins,
Slick Rick,
Crash Course in Science,
Parry Music,
10cc,
Black Sheep,
Swell Maps,
Jacques Brel,
Desert Stars,
John Holt,
Todd Terry,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Doors,
The Raincoats,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Inner City,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tears for Fears,
Minny Pops,
The Seeds,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Severed Heads,
The Last Poets,
Crispy Ambulance,
Yaz,
The Durutti Column,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.