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 Botswana and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 rhodes 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the rap 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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Darondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Justin Hinds & The Dominoes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cosmic Jokers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
Donny Hathaway,
Eli Mardock,
Monks,
Stiv Bators,
Marc Almond,
Severed Heads,
Mandrill,
Organ,
Kaleidoscope,
Matthew Bourne,
Franke,
The Buckinghams,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Scion,
OOIOO,
The Modern Lovers,
Pylon,
Dorothy Ashby,
Liliput,
Newcleus,
Pussy Galore,
Deakin,
Steve Hackett,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bizarre Inc.,
Michelle Simonal,
Mad Mike,
Marmalade,
Dawn Penn,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Toasters,
Isaac Hayes,
Masters at Work,
The Gap Band,
Mary Jane Girls,
H. Thieme,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Black Flag,
Andrew Hill,
Average White Band,
Terrestrial Tones,
Amon Düül,
Tears for Fears,
Patti Smith,
Urselle,
Sister Nancy,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Charles Mingus,
Sugar Minott,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jacob Miller,
the Germs,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Evens,
Nas,
Youth Brigade,
Erasure,
The Mojo Men,
The Moleskins,
Big Daddy Kane,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Livin' Joy,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.