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 Malta and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the oboe 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 Yusef Lateef to the funk 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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All Magma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Victims,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Darondo,
John Foxx,
The Walker Brothers,
Reagan Youth,
The Fire Engines,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Joyce Sims,
Fear,
Prince Buster,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cybotron,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Dave Gahan,
Kas Product,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Vladislav Delay,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Popol Vuh,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Junior Murvin,
Pagans,
Skaos,
Radiopuhelimet,
Warsaw,
Bang On A Can,
The Gun Club,
The Barracudas,
The Fugs,
Magma,
Skarface,
Jandek,
Quantec,
The Index,
Kaleidoscope,
Scott Walker,
Suburban Knight,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Grandmaster Flash,
Boz Scaggs,
The Remains,
Pylon,
The Black Dice,
Erykah Badu,
Hardrive,
Eve St. Jones,
Nik Kershaw,
Monolake,
Television Personalities,
Thompson Twins,
T. Rex,
The Durutti Column,
Guru Guru,
Audionom,
Lungfish,
Ralphi Rosario,
Basic Channel,
X-Ray Spex,
The Sonics,
New Age Steppers,
The Litter,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.