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 Kazakhstan and from Jakarta.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Michelle Simonal to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Litter. All the underground hits.
All John Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boogie Down Productions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Au Pairs,
The Beau Brummels,
Freddie Wadling,
The Human League,
D'Angelo,
Amazonics,
Archie Shepp,
The Trojans,
Angry Samoans,
The Misunderstood,
Talk Talk,
Cecil Taylor,
In Retrospect,
Desert Stars,
Man Eating Sloth,
Crooked Eye,
The Motions,
Aaron Thompson,
Rod Modell,
David Axelrod,
Blancmange,
Y Pants,
The Flesh Eaters,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Radio Birdman,
Deadbeat,
Big Daddy Kane,
Peter & Gordon,
Shuggie Otis,
Absolute Body Control,
Avey Tare,
Eden Ahbez,
The Residents,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Charles Mingus,
Mo-Dettes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Public Enemy,
The Fire Engines,
Flash Fearless,
Rites of Spring,
Make Up,
Slick Rick,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Wake,
Delon & Dalcan,
Frankie Knuckles,
Thompson Twins,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Gerry Rafferty,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
David Bowie,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sällskapet,
Ken Boothe,
Grauzone,
Lucky Dragons,
The Smoke,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Fela Kuti,
Heaven 17,
MDC, MDC, MDC, MDC.
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.