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 Gabon and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Durutti Column to the disco 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 Martian. All the underground hits.
All Connie Case tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lizzy Mercier Descloux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Mark Hollis,
Patti Smith,
The Flesh Eaters,
Erykah Badu,
Ossler,
Aloha Tigers,
Outsiders,
Kool Moe Dee,
CMW,
Matthew Halsall,
Wings,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The J.B.'s,
Smog,
Yaz,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Black Sheep,
Basic Channel,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Knickerbockers,
Moss Icon,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Gong,
Prince Buster,
Dorothy Ashby,
Faraquet,
The Sound,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Aswad,
The Index,
EPMD,
Jacques Brel,
the Association,
The Monks,
Section 25,
Peter and Kerry,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mary Jane Girls,
Procol Harum,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lebanon Hanover,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Jerry's Kids,
The Grass Roots,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Fall,
Crooked Eye,
Big Daddy Kane,
Slave,
Oneida,
The Litter,
Schoolly D,
Suicide,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Selecter,
The Angels of Light,
Hashim,
The Pretty Things,
Lakeside,
Terry Callier,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.