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 Mauritius and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Moebius to the disco 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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Don Cherry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five 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 spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soulsonic Force record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
June Days,
B.T. Express,
DJ Style,
Wasted Youth,
Newcleus,
Andrew Hill,
Lower 48,
Pussy Galore,
Pulsallama,
Wolf Eyes,
ABC,
X-101,
Black Flag,
Jacques Brel,
Graham Central Station,
Amon Düül II,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Neon Judgement,
The Red Krayola,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Buckinghams,
Stereo Dub,
The Zeros,
JFA,
In Retrospect,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Porter Ricks,
Ohio Players,
The Gun Club,
The Busters,
Archie Shepp,
The Moleskins,
Heaven 17,
Silicon Teens,
Ice-T,
Jacob Miller,
Derrick May,
The Golliwogs,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Saints,
Can,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Joey Negro,
Black Sheep,
Harry Pussy,
Lou Christie,
The Alarm Clocks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bad Manners,
Davy DMX,
Gabor Szabo,
The Cowsills,
Connie Case,
Man Eating Sloth,
Charles Mingus,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo.
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.