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 Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Crispian St. Peters to the rap 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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
The Cowsills,
Matthew Bourne,
Soft Cell,
Magma,
Deakin,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Fuzztones,
Erasure,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Excepter,
Procol Harum,
Mo-Dettes,
The Fortunes,
Skarface,
Terry Callier,
The Monks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rakim,
Ornette Coleman,
The Knickerbockers,
Toni Rubio,
Sun Ra,
Theoretical Girls,
The American Breed,
Lucky Dragons,
Barbara Tucker,
New York Dolls,
Peter and Kerry,
Moebius,
Symarip,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Thee Headcoats,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Marcia Griffiths,
Eric B and Rakim,
Janne Schatter,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Simply Red,
Swell Maps,
Patti Smith,
Blake Baxter,
Bauhaus,
David McCallum,
Unwound,
Camouflage,
Saccharine Trust,
EPMD,
Dennis Brown,
Johnny Clarke,
Fugazi,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
a-ha,
The Standells,
Jerry's Kids,
Joy Division,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Minnie Riperton,
The Real Kids,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lower 48,
Spandau Ballet,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.