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 Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Spokane.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Stiv Bators to the jazz 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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All The Tremeloes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gun Club record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neil Young,
Gichy Dan,
Neu!,
Ornette Coleman,
The Angels of Light,
Crooked Eye,
Half Japanese,
Albert Ayler,
Bluetip,
Chrome,
Vladislav Delay,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Absolute Body Control,
Drive Like Jehu,
Brand Nubian,
Slave,
Tomorrow,
The Fortunes,
Heaven 17,
T. Rex,
Angry Samoans,
Ultravox,
Derrick Morgan,
Sexual Harrassment,
Masters at Work,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gang Gang Dance,
ABC,
Anakelly,
Schoolly D,
Swell Maps,
Public Enemy,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Whodini,
The Index,
Crime,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Soulsonic Force,
Tubeway Army,
Eden Ahbez,
The Dirtbombs,
The Selecter,
Girls At Our Best!,
Laurel Aitken,
The Doors,
The Offenders,
The Five Americans,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Pop Group,
Pulsallama,
The Martian,
Max Romeo,
Con Funk Shun,
Von Mondo,
Lungfish,
Marcia Griffiths,
Robert Hood,
Eddi Front,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Zapp,
Scientists,
Bootsy Collins,
Charles Mingus,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity.
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.