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 Qatar and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the punk 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lee Hazlewood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Roxy Music,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Fela Kuti,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Delta 5,
The Techniques,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lucky Dragons,
Cal Tjader,
New Order,
the Germs,
Pharoah Sanders,
Magazine,
The Grass Roots,
Royal Trux,
Index,
MC5,
The Slackers,
Surgeon,
Gang Starr,
The Tremeloes,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Davy DMX,
Black Pus,
Bobby Womack,
Easy Going,
Crispy Ambulance,
Spandau Ballet,
L. Decosne,
Piero Umiliani,
Rufus Thomas,
kango's stein massive,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Grandmaster Flash,
Fear,
Jacques Brel,
cv313,
Curtis Mayfield,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Donald Byrd,
Robert Görl,
Hoover,
The Mojo Men,
Faust,
Simply Red,
Reagan Youth,
Letta Mbulu,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Cowsills,
Intrusion,
Second Layer,
Camouflage,
Drexciya,
Mad Mike,
Idris Muhammad,
Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson.
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.