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 Uzbekistan and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Letta Mbulu to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
Joey Negro,
Frankie Knuckles,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Nation of Ulysses,
Marmalade,
Goldenarms,
Soulsonic Force,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Ituana,
Public Enemy,
D'Angelo,
Chrome,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Motions,
The Dead C,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sällskapet,
The Last Poets,
Flamin' Groovies,
Anthony Braxton,
Aaron Thompson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Alton Ellis,
The Sonics,
Bob Dylan,
Ken Boothe,
Pole,
Nik Kershaw,
ABBA,
The Slackers,
Bauhaus,
Steve Hackett,
The Offenders,
Gabor Szabo,
Sexual Harrassment,
Leonard Cohen,
The Fortunes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pet Shop Boys,
Rites of Spring,
Nils Olav,
Davy DMX,
Todd Terry,
Johnny Clarke,
R.M.O.,
F. McDonald,
Grauzone,
Spandau Ballet,
The Alarm Clocks,
X-Ray Spex,
Boz Scaggs,
Skriet,
Whodini,
Subhumans,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan.
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.