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 Ukraine and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Wings 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 Panda Bear. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Music Machine,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ponytail,
ABC,
The Black Dice,
Underground Resistance,
Negative Approach,
CMW,
Essential Logic,
Kenny Larkin,
Ice-T,
KRS-One,
Suicide,
Sex Pistols,
The Remains,
Con Funk Shun,
Glenn Branca,
The Pretty Things,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Angry Samoans,
Inner City,
Lakeside,
Jacques Brel,
The Neon Judgement,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Junior Murvin,
Lucky Dragons,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Sonny Sharrock,
DNA,
Gong,
Rites of Spring,
Soul II Soul,
Steve Hackett,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lalann,
The Smoke,
Marcia Griffiths,
Agitation Free,
Bobby Sherman,
Henry Cow,
The Offenders,
Peter and Kerry,
Country Teasers,
Robert Hood,
The Grass Roots,
The Red Krayola,
Connie Case,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Moody Blues,
Whodini,
X-102,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Ornette Coleman,
the Fania All-Stars,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Oblivians,
DJ Sneak,
Swell Maps,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.