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 Sudan and from Toronto.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Marcia Griffiths to the funk 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 Oblivians. All the underground hits.
All U.S. Maple tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lonnie Liston Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
Kaleidoscope,
The Last Poets,
Khruangbin,
Robert Wyatt,
Byron Stingily,
Zapp,
Procol Harum,
The Monochrome Set,
Funkadelic,
Flamin' Groovies,
The American Breed,
The Angels of Light,
Shoche,
Amon Düül II,
Patti Smith,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ludus,
Piero Umiliani,
Y Pants,
Popol Vuh,
Grauzone,
The Birthday Party,
Can,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Rosa Yemen,
The Smoke,
John Cale,
Cecil Taylor,
The Happenings,
The Cramps,
David McCallum,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Mo-Dettes,
Fatback Band,
The Kinks,
Ponytail,
Fat Boys,
Chrome,
The Leaves,
Maurizio,
The Index,
Oblivians,
Erasure,
Jacques Brel,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Cowsills,
Jacob Miller,
Deepchord,
Black Flag,
June of 44,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Charles Mingus,
a-ha,
the Sonics,
Jerry's Kids,
Rhythm & Sound,
the Normal,
Brothers Johnson,
Colin Newman,
Todd Terry,
the Germs,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.