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 Bahamas and from Shanghai.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 techno 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 Los Fastidios. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Schoolly D record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Basic Channel,
Slave,
PIL,
Skaos,
The Litter,
U.S. Maple,
Faraquet,
Motorama,
June Days,
the Swans,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Rapeman,
Faust,
Junior Murvin,
Fela Kuti,
The Tremeloes,
The Saints,
B.T. Express,
Erykah Badu,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Letta Mbulu,
Lucky Dragons,
Scan 7,
Wings,
Magazine,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Newcleus,
Hot Snakes,
Siglo XX,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Gories,
Jeff Lynne,
Marine Girls,
Animal Collective,
The Electric Prunes,
Joensuu 1685,
Scion,
Boredoms,
Crash Course in Science,
Chrome,
Todd Terry,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Howard Jones,
Zero Boys,
Scott Walker,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rotary Connection,
The Fire Engines,
Essential Logic,
The Velvet Underground,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Tom Boy,
Guru Guru,
Quantec,
James White and The Blacks,
The Victims,
Vainqueur,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Trumans Water,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.