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 Chile and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the güiro 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 Gang Starr 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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Ludus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Patti Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June of 44 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Marshall Jefferson,
Electric Prunes,
Faraquet,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Roy Ayers,
Oneida,
DJ Sneak,
Minnie Riperton,
La Düsseldorf,
Tommy Roe,
Moby Grape,
D'Angelo,
Dead Boys,
Buzzcocks,
The Smoke,
Yazoo,
MC5,
Aswad,
Eric Dolphy,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Nick Fraelich,
Man Parrish,
Intrusion,
Cheater Slicks,
The Doors,
Absolute Body Control,
Franke,
Aaron Thompson,
Grey Daturas,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rakim,
AZ,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sex Pistols,
Can,
Gichy Dan,
Sight & Sound,
Albert Ayler,
Fluxion,
The Blues Magoos,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Moss Icon,
Scratch Acid,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Busters,
The Dead C,
a-ha,
Procol Harum,
Gang Starr,
Maleditus Sound,
John Cale,
The Remains,
Donald Byrd,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Robert Görl,
It's A Beautiful Day,
One Last Wish,
Ultimate Spinach,
B.T. Express,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Stooges,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.