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 Afghanistan and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Morten Harket to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Lakeside. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June of 44 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Terry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Masters at Work,
One Last Wish,
Von Mondo,
Howard Jones,
The Names,
Gabor Szabo,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Dirtbombs,
Rhythm & Sound,
Severed Heads,
Sound Behaviour,
The Gladiators,
Anakelly,
The Golliwogs,
Slave,
Monolake,
Monks,
Stiv Bators,
June of 44,
Easy Going,
David McCallum,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Shoche,
John Lydon,
Ultra Naté,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Mad Mike,
Ponytail,
China Crisis,
The Gap Band,
FM Einheit,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Traffic Nightmare,
Archie Shepp,
the Normal,
D'Angelo,
Goldenarms,
The Searchers,
Bill Wells,
the Swans,
Jandek,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jesper Dahlback,
Stockholm Monsters,
Yazoo,
Black Bananas,
Warsaw,
48th St. Collective,
Janne Schatter,
Eli Mardock,
ABBA,
Pulsallama,
Panda Bear,
Dead Boys,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Whodini,
Crispy Ambulance,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.