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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Mexico City.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the electroclash 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 Procol Harum. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Whodini record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
Animal Collective,
The Litter,
Hardrive,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bush Tetras,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gong,
The Doors,
Mr. Review,
Barbara Tucker,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Parry Music,
10cc,
Technova,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Little Man,
Unrelated Segments,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lungfish,
Mars,
These Immortal Souls,
Accadde A,
The Flesh Eaters,
Porter Ricks,
David Bowie,
Skaos,
Underground Resistance,
Pylon,
Moebius,
The Star Department,
Duran Duran,
Crime,
The Stooges,
Dawn Penn,
Q and Not U,
Kayak,
The Golliwogs,
Pharoah Sanders,
Moss Icon,
Joe Smooth,
Zapp,
The Dead C,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Goldenarms,
D'Angelo,
Dead Boys,
Siglo XX,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Letta Mbulu,
Aswad,
Brothers Johnson,
Warren Ellis,
Pet Shop Boys,
UT,
Sun City Girls,
Subhumans,
Eve St. Jones,
Henry Cow,
John Lydon,
Harry Pussy,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.