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 Oman and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Mission of Burma to the electroclash 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 The Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a marimba and a chamberlin 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 güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joensuu 1685,
The Motions,
Bluetip,
Bob Dylan,
X-101,
Crispy Ambulance,
Reuben Wilson,
Adolescents,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pantytec,
Chris Corsano,
Jeru the Damaja,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Nation of Ulysses,
Parry Music,
Slave,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Goldenarms,
Angry Samoans,
Wings,
Dawn Penn,
Cameo,
Aloha Tigers,
Cecil Taylor,
Morten Harket,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Black Moon,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sandy B,
Jesper Dahlback,
E-Dancer,
Hasil Adkins,
the Swans,
The Tremeloes,
Sarah Menescal,
The Mummies,
Absolute Body Control,
B.T. Express,
Blancmange,
The Dirtbombs,
Lebanon Hanover,
Robert Görl,
Animal Collective,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Half Japanese,
The Count Five,
Negative Approach,
Desert Stars,
Soul II Soul,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Technova,
David Bowie,
Symarip,
Ten City,
Bill Wells,
the Bar-Kays,
Jimmy McGriff,
Magma,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Carl Craig,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.