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 United Kingdom and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
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 Sound Behaviour to the funk 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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
Guru Guru,
Rites of Spring,
Sonic Youth,
Bill Wells,
The Raincoats,
The Moleskins,
Monolake,
The Motions,
Andrew Hill,
DJ Sneak,
The Skatalites,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Camouflage,
Peter & Gordon,
Scott Walker,
The Sound,
Ultimate Spinach,
Royal Trux,
The Flesh Eaters,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Traffic Nightmare,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Blake Baxter,
Anthony Braxton,
Patti Smith,
The Kinks,
Skarface,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Idris Muhammad,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Thee Headcoats,
Infiniti,
Sight & Sound,
The Fugs,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Silicon Teens,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Last Poets,
A Certain Ratio,
Man Parrish,
Loose Ends,
Second Layer,
X-Ray Spex,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
the Soft Cell,
Terrestrial Tones,
K-Klass,
June of 44,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Isaac Hayes,
T.S.O.L.,
Josef K,
E-Dancer,
Lindisfarne,
Lalo Schifrin,
the Slits,
Trumans Water,
Robert Hood,
Bush Tetras,
Surgeon,
Animal Collective,
This Heat,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.