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 Nepal and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 The Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donny Hathaway record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Stockholm Monsters,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Quadrant,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Cure,
Eden Ahbez,
James White and The Blacks,
Monolake,
Lee Hazlewood,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sixth Finger,
LL Cool J,
Scrapy,
Funkadelic,
The Move,
Andrew Hill,
Yusef Lateef,
Gong,
Urselle,
The Pop Group,
David McCallum,
Harry Pussy,
Monks,
Thee Headcoats,
Pussy Galore,
The Seeds,
Tears for Fears,
Angry Samoans,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Associates,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mandrill,
L. Decosne,
Robert Hood,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Can,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
UT,
Graham Central Station,
Matthew Bourne,
Erasure,
Scion,
Aaron Thompson,
Joy Division,
Rapeman,
Theoretical Girls,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Faust,
Television,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Litter,
Pantytec,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Amon Düül II,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.