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 Suriname and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Copenhagen.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ludus to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Aaron Thompson. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris & Cosey record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
John Lydon,
Wasted Youth,
Hot Snakes,
Soft Machine,
Jesper Dahlback,
Johnny Clarke,
Charles Mingus,
Connie Case,
Scientists,
Big Daddy Kane,
Joyce Sims,
Tropical Tobacco,
ABC,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Residents,
the Slits,
Whodini,
Minny Pops,
Mark Hollis,
The Walker Brothers,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Cybotron,
Althea and Donna,
Black Moon,
Schoolly D,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Grass Roots,
Babytalk,
World's Most,
Roxette,
Kerri Chandler,
The Vogues,
Shuggie Otis,
Mars,
X-101,
The Real Kids,
Clear Light,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Slits,
The Smoke,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Little Man,
Scan 7,
Agitation Free,
This Heat,
DJ Style,
Pere Ubu,
The Divine Comedy,
Dark Day,
Kenny Larkin,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Faraquet,
The Durutti Column,
Saccharine Trust,
Gong,
Boz Scaggs,
Moby Grape,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.