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 Bhutan and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the rap 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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
Lakeside,
Grauzone,
Brass Construction,
The Skatalites,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Charles Mingus,
The Stooges,
Duran Duran,
Quadrant,
Marcia Griffiths,
Thee Headcoats,
Carl Craig,
H. Thieme,
Davy DMX,
Mandrill,
The Count Five,
Subhumans,
The Pretty Things,
Amon Düül,
Magazine,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Jacques Brel,
Roy Ayers,
Blancmange,
The Cowsills,
This Heat,
Terry Callier,
Pole,
Visage,
Pantytec,
Chrome,
Joey Negro,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Eric Dolphy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Scott Walker,
Ronnie Foster,
Arthur Verocai,
Graham Central Station,
Skriet,
Albert Ayler,
Leonard Cohen,
The J.B.'s,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Buzzcocks,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ituana,
John Holt,
Nas,
The Knickerbockers,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Model 500,
PIL,
the Swans,
Qualms,
Unwound,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Yellowson,
Josef K,
Bad Manners,
Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force.
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.