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 Bangladesh and from Seoul.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Monochrome Set to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
DJ Sneak,
Flipper,
Agent Orange,
Pantytec,
The Motions,
The Monks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Magma,
Babytalk,
Charles Mingus,
Aural Exciters,
Boredoms,
The Dead C,
The Buckinghams,
The United States of America,
Monolake,
Terry Callier,
Black Sheep,
Brothers Johnson,
Index,
The Human League,
The Index,
Fela Kuti,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Idris Muhammad,
Country Teasers,
Bauhaus,
John Lydon,
The Barracudas,
Warren Ellis,
Gregory Isaacs,
Vainqueur,
The Techniques,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Move,
Public Enemy,
Grauzone,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Skaos,
Ossler,
Youth Brigade,
Stereo Dub,
The Dave Clark Five,
Minor Threat,
Eurythmics,
Archie Shepp,
JFA,
Jeff Mills,
Blossom Toes,
Robert Wyatt,
Suburban Knight,
Crispy Ambulance,
Joe Finger,
Anthony Braxton,
Ultravox,
Deakin,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bad Manners,
Alphaville,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.