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 Sudan and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Terry Callier to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
Bobby Sherman,
ABC,
The Martian,
Chris Corsano,
Arthur Verocai,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Zapp,
Tommy Roe,
Scratch Acid,
Motorama,
Eric Dolphy,
Los Fastidios,
Agitation Free,
Country Teasers,
The Fire Engines,
Peter and Kerry,
Rites of Spring,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Scientists,
Funkadelic,
Bootsy Collins,
Gang of Four,
The Moleskins,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lou Reed,
Joy Division,
Erasure,
Depeche Mode,
Howard Jones,
Gastr Del Sol,
Brick,
Ultravox,
Grauzone,
Boredoms,
Echospace,
The Count Five,
Ronnie Foster,
Crispy Ambulance,
Robert Görl,
Ken Boothe,
Terry Callier,
Icehouse,
Loose Ends,
The Slackers,
Ultimate Spinach,
48th St. Collective,
Shuggie Otis,
The Doors,
Angry Samoans,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
the Fania All-Stars,
Alton Ellis,
David Axelrod,
Oneida,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Yaz,
The Busters,
The Flesh Eaters,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.