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 Samoa and from Houston.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Tehran.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All a-ha tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
KRS-One,
Ken Boothe,
The Mummies,
Peter & Gordon,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Barclay James Harvest,
The Zeros,
Depeche Mode,
Mr. Review,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
David Axelrod,
Rakim,
Dual Sessions,
Stockholm Monsters,
Nirvana,
Mars,
The Pop Group,
Amon Düül II,
Cymande,
Kerrie Biddell,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Main Source,
Bauhaus,
Frankie Knuckles,
Robert Wyatt,
Prince Buster,
Guru Guru,
The Beau Brummels,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Victims,
Idris Muhammad,
The New Christs,
Das Ding,
Lakeside,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Selecter,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Scratch Acid,
Maurizio,
Inner City,
Fela Kuti,
Tommy Roe,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Germs,
Traffic Nightmare,
Moby Grape,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Newcleus,
Malaria!,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bobby Sherman,
Crispy Ambulance,
Chrome,
Pussy Galore,
Negative Approach,
Amazonics,
Nik Kershaw,
Urselle,
Juan Atkins,
Crooked Eye,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.