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 Sierra Leone and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Robert Hood to the crunk 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 Spoonie Gee. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mummies 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
Nirvana,
Henry Cow,
Barbara Tucker,
The Real Kids,
Johnny Clarke,
Motorama,
Robert Wyatt,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Mark Hollis,
Cluster,
Flipper,
Isaac Hayes,
Oblivians,
Ohio Players,
Second Layer,
Darondo,
Babytalk,
Simply Red,
The Smiths,
Don Cherry,
Robert Hood,
F. McDonald,
The Fire Engines,
Mr. Review,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ossler,
Yaz,
Alphaville,
Prince Buster,
Schoolly D,
Monks,
FM Einheit,
Marshall Jefferson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bronski Beat,
Pantytec,
The Gap Band,
Essential Logic,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Average White Band,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Dead C,
Von Mondo,
Camberwell Now,
Moby Grape,
Pharoah Sanders,
Chris Corsano,
The Standells,
The Residents,
Derrick May,
Audionom,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Dirtbombs,
Lalo Schifrin,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ralphi Rosario,
EPMD,
Arcadia,
Joy Division,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim.
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.