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 Spain and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 spring reverb 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 The Cure to the grunge 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
Minny Pops,
Ice-T,
Todd Rundgren,
the Bar-Kays,
Todd Terry,
R.M.O.,
Cluster,
New Order,
The Dead C,
Crooked Eye,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Avey Tare,
Donald Byrd,
The United States of America,
Lou Christie,
The Star Department,
The Beau Brummels,
Parry Music,
Second Layer,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Smoke,
The Cowsills,
Skriet,
Funkadelic,
Althea and Donna,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Brass Construction,
Camouflage,
Janne Schatter,
the Slits,
Tim Buckley,
Leonard Cohen,
Stiv Bators,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Last Poets,
Kenny Larkin,
Cheater Slicks,
Aloha Tigers,
Minutemen,
Kaleidoscope,
The Blues Magoos,
Gichy Dan,
The Leaves,
Motorama,
Suicide,
Tommy Roe,
Pole,
Gang Gang Dance,
Joe Finger,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
In Retrospect,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
This Heat,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lou Reed,
Max Romeo,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bobby Womack,
Eurythmics,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Scratch Acid,
The Evens, The Evens, The Evens, The Evens.
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.