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 Marshall Islands and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 Spokane and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 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 Pylon to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lindisfarne. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacob Miller 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
Ultravox,
Rufus Thomas,
Warsaw,
Skaos,
the Association,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sixth Finger,
Spandau Ballet,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bob Dylan,
Con Funk Shun,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
T.S.O.L.,
Maleditus Sound,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Camouflage,
The Young Rascals,
Hasil Adkins,
Eurythmics,
The Dirtbombs,
Gong,
Trumans Water,
Groovy Waters,
Reuben Wilson,
Procol Harum,
Lebanon Hanover,
48th St. Collective,
Joyce Sims,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Judy Mowatt,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Brick,
ABC,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Zeros,
Q65,
Freddie Wadling,
Urselle,
Mark Hollis,
Mission of Burma,
Jimmy McGriff,
Public Enemy,
Minnie Riperton,
Kool Moe Dee,
Fela Kuti,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Moody Blues,
The Victims,
The Leaves,
Underground Resistance,
10cc,
David Axelrod,
Wasted Youth,
the Fania All-Stars,
Zapp,
Schoolly D,
The Mummies,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash.
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.