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 Kyrgyzstan and from Lagos.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Portland.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the 808 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 John Foxx to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Vogues,
Arcadia,
The Misunderstood,
Marine Girls,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cameo,
Sparks,
Robert Hood,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Bobby Byrd,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Wake,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Barracudas,
Josef K,
The Cramps,
Little Man,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
48th St. Collective,
Andrew Hill,
Johnny Clarke,
Stockholm Monsters,
David Bowie,
The Toasters,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Crime,
Scan 7,
The Slits,
Kool Moe Dee,
Outsiders,
Glambeats Corp.,
Visage,
Sugar Minott,
The Modern Lovers,
Rod Modell,
The Stooges,
Aural Exciters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Public Image Ltd.,
Barclay James Harvest,
Joy Division,
Sun Ra,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Saints,
Fatback Band,
Donald Byrd,
China Crisis,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Absolute Body Control,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Cecil Taylor,
Sex Pistols,
X-102,
Tommy Roe,
Michelle Simonal,
Mantronix,
Isaac Hayes,
The Leaves,
Television Personalities, Television Personalities, Television Personalities, Television Personalities.
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.