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 Yemen and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Television Personalities to the dance 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 Shuggie Otis. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every JFA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Whodini record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rod Modell,
The Real Kids,
Grauzone,
Depeche Mode,
Terry Callier,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Offenders,
The Slackers,
Crime,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lyres,
The Fugs,
Pantaleimon,
Groovy Waters,
The Victims,
Sonny Sharrock,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Monks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Gladiators,
Flipper,
Harry Pussy,
Brothers Johnson,
Buzzcocks,
The Cowsills,
The Move,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Anthony Braxton,
Monks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Whodini,
Erykah Badu,
Roy Ayers,
Von Mondo,
Robert Görl,
Agent Orange,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sex Pistols,
Curtis Mayfield,
Das Ding,
Livin' Joy,
Animal Collective,
Rekid,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Moebius,
Vladislav Delay,
Black Pus,
One Last Wish,
The Wake,
The Trojans,
Jawbox,
Funky Four + One,
CMW,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Main Source,
Circle Jerks,
Stetsasonic,
Don Cherry,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.