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 Austria and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Popol Vuh to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
D'Angelo,
Rapeman,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Reagan Youth,
The Smiths,
Reuben Wilson,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Mr. Review,
Pere Ubu,
The Monochrome Set,
Das Ding,
Fad Gadget,
Cymande,
Black Moon,
Bobby Byrd,
Arcadia,
Scrapy,
The Techniques,
Davy DMX,
Sandy B,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jeru the Damaja,
Man Parrish,
The Remains,
Minnie Riperton,
Kas Product,
Arab on Radar,
Symarip,
Suicide,
the Fania All-Stars,
Robert Wyatt,
The Walker Brothers,
Icehouse,
KRS-One,
The Fuzztones,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Maleditus Sound,
Toni Rubio,
Technova,
Procol Harum,
Deadbeat,
Gang Green,
Theoretical Girls,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Faust,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Charles Mingus,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
8 Eyed Spy,
Chris & Cosey,
the Association,
Yellowson,
The Dave Clark Five,
Blossom Toes,
Slick Rick,
H. Thieme,
The Mummies,
Connie Case,
Loose Ends,
John Cale,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig.
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.