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 Eritrea and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Crispian St. Peters to the jazz 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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All Gang Green tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yusef Lateef record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Althea and Donna,
Cameo,
The Last Poets,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Nation of Ulysses,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bang On A Can,
Max Romeo,
The Five Americans,
Ice-T,
Peter & Gordon,
Hardrive,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Dirtbombs,
Mission of Burma,
Roxette,
Jacob Miller,
Lower 48,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Slackers,
Urselle,
The Pretty Things,
Minutemen,
Interpol,
T.S.O.L.,
Jawbox,
Gang of Four,
Theoretical Girls,
Pussy Galore,
Soulsonic Force,
The Busters,
Trumans Water,
Big Daddy Kane,
Adolescents,
Charles Mingus,
Freddie Wadling,
This Heat,
Aswad,
Minor Threat,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Blackbyrds,
Young Marble Giants,
Scan 7,
Sam Rivers,
Sandy B,
The Smoke,
Deadbeat,
Boredoms,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Leaves,
Popol Vuh,
John Holt,
The Red Krayola,
Arcadia,
The Index,
Josef K,
Cal Tjader,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.