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 United Kingdom and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Cairo.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Roxy Music. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dark Day 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 marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Skatalites record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Rekid,
Bang On A Can,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eddi Front,
Todd Terry,
Harpers Bizarre,
Cameo,
Country Teasers,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Last Poets,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Urselle,
Black Moon,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Raincoats,
Nation of Ulysses,
Dark Day,
Moebius,
Procol Harum,
Malaria!,
Charles Mingus,
Althea and Donna,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Frankie Knuckles,
Porter Ricks,
The Selecter,
Saccharine Trust,
James White and The Blacks,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Fatback Band,
The Remains,
Public Enemy,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Smoke,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Model 500,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Jerry's Kids,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kenny Larkin,
Thompson Twins,
Lakeside,
Skriet,
Donny Hathaway,
The Fall,
The Electric Prunes,
Radio Birdman,
Steve Hackett,
Von Mondo,
Radiopuhelimet,
The New Christs,
Black Flag,
Scrapy,
The Fugs,
Severed Heads,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pantaleimon,
Ituana,
Ultra Naté,
Lightning Bolt,
Mr. Review,
Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart.
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.