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 Tuvalu and from Tehran.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Cal Tjader to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siouxsie and the Banshees record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
John Cale,
the Soft Cell,
Josef K,
Brand Nubian,
Essential Logic,
Ralphi Rosario,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jawbox,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Cure,
The Vogues,
Adolescents,
Junior Murvin,
Gang Green,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ice-T,
Amon Düül II,
Kerri Chandler,
Robert Hood,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
the Slits,
David Bowie,
Babytalk,
Siglo XX,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bluetip,
The Fire Engines,
Scan 7,
Bronski Beat,
Black Bananas,
Dennis Brown,
Derrick Morgan,
Mr. Review,
Warren Ellis,
Underground Resistance,
Surgeon,
The Star Department,
In Retrospect,
Nation of Ulysses,
Hot Snakes,
Tres Demented,
Barry Ungar,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pulsallama,
Panda Bear,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Young Rascals,
David McCallum,
KRS-One,
Neu!,
Yellowson,
Isaac Hayes,
Vainqueur,
Bush Tetras,
Amazonics,
Franke,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Red Krayola,
Dark Day,
Ronan,
Zapp, Zapp, Zapp, Zapp.
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.