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 Croatia and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a EPMD record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harmonia,
Y Pants,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Suicide,
Supertramp,
Agent Orange,
MDC,
Bobby Womack,
Severed Heads,
Dark Day,
Public Image Ltd.,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Toasters,
Aaron Thompson,
KRS-One,
PIL,
Second Layer,
Stereo Dub,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sonny Sharrock,
Quadrant,
Sun City Girls,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Electric Prunes,
Graham Central Station,
Robert Wyatt,
Oblivians,
Stiv Bators,
Tim Buckley,
The Fuzztones,
Godley & Creme,
Depeche Mode,
The Knickerbockers,
The Slackers,
Aloha Tigers,
The Tremeloes,
Mars,
X-102,
Roxy Music,
Panda Bear,
Quantec,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Echospace,
Popol Vuh,
Sam Rivers,
ABBA,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Fugs,
The Detroit Cobras,
Kurtis Blow,
Eric B and Rakim,
Saccharine Trust,
The Motions,
Glenn Branca,
Icehouse,
Faust,
Japan,
The Selecter,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.