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 East Timor and from Hong Kong.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the theremin 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 Tom Boy to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Swell Maps. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Aswad,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Raincoats,
Alison Limerick,
Erykah Badu,
Roxette,
Brand Nubian,
Carl Craig,
Bush Tetras,
Heaven 17,
Wings,
The Techniques,
This Heat,
Lower 48,
The Leaves,
Wire,
Pylon,
Organ,
The Modern Lovers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Brick,
Nas,
The Last Poets,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The J.B.'s,
DNA,
Livin' Joy,
The Sonics,
The Victims,
The Dead C,
D'Angelo,
Juan Atkins,
Moebius,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Star Department,
Mission of Burma,
Monolake,
Mo-Dettes,
Massinfluence,
EPMD,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Black Dice,
F. McDonald,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Rapeman,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Minor Threat,
DJ Style,
The Invisible,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Fuzztones,
The Gap Band,
The Offenders,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.