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 Marshall Islands and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The American Breed to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Albert Ayler. All the underground hits.
All Procol Harum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scientists record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
The Beau Brummels,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cybotron,
Panda Bear,
Don Cherry,
Graham Central Station,
Letta Mbulu,
The Modern Lovers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Crime,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eric Copeland,
Agitation Free,
Erasure,
Ornette Coleman,
The Pop Group,
Soulsonic Force,
DNA,
Thee Headcoats,
Dave Gahan,
Soft Cell,
Tears for Fears,
Dark Day,
Ronnie Foster,
Sonic Youth,
DJ Sneak,
The American Breed,
Tommy Roe,
Terry Callier,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Cramps,
The New Christs,
Harry Pussy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Public Image Ltd.,
Toni Rubio,
Trumans Water,
Pussy Galore,
Sun Ra,
Animal Collective,
The Barracudas,
Andrew Hill,
Josef K,
Janne Schatter,
Black Sheep,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Durutti Column,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Donald Byrd,
Rosa Yemen,
Throbbing Gristle,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Fall,
Avey Tare,
Maleditus Sound,
Matthew Halsall,
Procol Harum,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Human League,
Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub.
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.