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 Kuwait and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 rhodes 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 Don Cherry to the rock 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 Aaron Thompson. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liaisons Dangereuses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
Yellowson,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Second Layer,
Talk Talk,
Max Romeo,
Dorothy Ashby,
These Immortal Souls,
Pussy Galore,
Girls At Our Best!,
Siglo XX,
Average White Band,
Erykah Badu,
Ultra Naté,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Curtis Mayfield,
David Bowie,
Neil Young,
Wire,
Joe Smooth,
Underground Resistance,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
U.S. Maple,
The Searchers,
Reuben Wilson,
Warsaw,
The Sonics,
David Axelrod,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Evens,
Eden Ahbez,
H. Thieme,
Ash Ra Tempel,
kango's stein massive,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Flash Fearless,
The Fall,
Pantytec,
EPMD,
The Pretty Things,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Porter Ricks,
Terry Callier,
Gabor Szabo,
Eddi Front,
The Move,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kool Moe Dee,
Nick Fraelich,
The Red Krayola,
Rhythm & Sound,
It's A Beautiful Day,
8 Eyed Spy,
Country Teasers,
Echospace,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Fad Gadget,
Icehouse,
Flamin' Groovies,
the Germs,
Quando Quango,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.