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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Motions to the rock 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 Procol Harum. All the underground hits.
All The Grass Roots tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
U.S. Maple,
Q and Not U,
H. Thieme,
The Dirtbombs,
Henry Cow,
Marvin Gaye,
Massinfluence,
Sixth Finger,
Toni Rubio,
Junior Murvin,
Man Eating Sloth,
Stereo Dub,
Archie Shepp,
Alphaville,
The Selecter,
Pierre Henry,
Thee Headcoats,
Black Bananas,
Lucky Dragons,
La Düsseldorf,
Iggy Pop,
The Cowsills,
Scientists,
Tubeway Army,
Kas Product,
Chris & Cosey,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bauhaus,
Audionom,
Robert Wyatt,
Fatback Band,
E-Dancer,
kango's stein massive,
Bob Dylan,
The Birthday Party,
Bill Near,
Aswad,
Porter Ricks,
Rosa Yemen,
Howard Jones,
Mo-Dettes,
Gichy Dan,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sugar Minott,
Procol Harum,
Crime,
The Music Machine,
Depeche Mode,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Stetsasonic,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Royal Trux,
Matthew Bourne,
Easy Going,
Unrelated Segments,
the Fania All-Stars,
Section 25,
Lightning Bolt,
Jesper Dahlback,
Gerry Rafferty,
Mr. Review,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.