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 Libya and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the rap 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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Axelrod 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 theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Zeros,
Grandmaster Flash,
Liliput,
Pharoah Sanders,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Shuggie Otis,
Bronski Beat,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Pussy Galore,
Max Romeo,
The New Christs,
Mo-Dettes,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bill Wells,
Con Funk Shun,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
ABC,
Intrusion,
The Leaves,
Nils Olav,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
June of 44,
Hardrive,
Monolake,
Lou Christie,
Section 25,
Anthony Braxton,
Television,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Wasted Youth,
Dark Day,
T. Rex,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Ultimate Spinach,
Country Teasers,
The Gun Club,
Cheater Slicks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Moebius,
Pierre Henry,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Thompson Twins,
Curtis Mayfield,
Tears for Fears,
Gong,
Camouflage,
the Association,
The Grass Roots,
a-ha,
MDC,
Mandrill,
Negative Approach,
Erykah Badu,
Sixth Finger,
Peter & Gordon,
The Detroit Cobras,
Cameo,
Joensuu 1685,
Harmonia,
Yazoo,
Inner City,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.