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 Cuba and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the sitar 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 Sly & The Family Stone to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television 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 linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
The Kinks,
Lou Christie,
The Searchers,
Arab on Radar,
The Selecter,
Scratch Acid,
Cecil Taylor,
The Moleskins,
The Last Poets,
Quando Quango,
Gang Starr,
Young Marble Giants,
Newcleus,
D'Angelo,
Shoche,
Clear Light,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mission of Burma,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lucky Dragons,
Can,
Kevin Saunderson,
U.S. Maple,
John Cale,
Crispian St. Peters,
Johnny Clarke,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Byron Stingily,
Toni Rubio,
Masters at Work,
The Names,
Sandy B,
Ronan,
Kayak,
Goldenarms,
Second Layer,
Bluetip,
Oneida,
Roxette,
The Barracudas,
Robert Hood,
Nico,
The Star Department,
Gerry Rafferty,
DNA,
Subhumans,
DJ Style,
Motorama,
Massinfluence,
The Monks,
Black Sheep,
Jacob Miller,
Juan Atkins,
Dawn Penn,
UT,
Susan Cadogan,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sexual Harrassment,
Visage,
the Swans,
Soul II Soul,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.