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 Malaysia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 harpsichord 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 Aural Exciters to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Outsiders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Half Japanese record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
The Sound,
Severed Heads,
Mission of Burma,
Joyce Sims,
Eve St. Jones,
Jeff Mills,
Niagra,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Slits,
The Leaves,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Blake Baxter,
Grauzone,
Pierre Henry,
Malaria!,
Hoover,
Matthew Bourne,
Fugazi,
Los Fastidios,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The New Christs,
June of 44,
Goldenarms,
CMW,
Byron Stingily,
Funkadelic,
Erasure,
Brand Nubian,
Little Man,
Rapeman,
Quadrant,
Camouflage,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Erykah Badu,
B.T. Express,
Henry Cow,
The Saints,
Barrington Levy,
Accadde A,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Lebanon Hanover,
Faraquet,
Joey Negro,
The Moleskins,
Alice Coltrane,
Chris Corsano,
Sarah Menescal,
Nick Fraelich,
Brick,
Rakim,
Negative Approach,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Blancmange,
Ossler,
Gabor Szabo,
The Victims,
Moby Grape,
JFA,
Y Pants,
The Knickerbockers,
Circle Jerks,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.