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 Barbados and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 David Bowie 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 Spandau Ballet. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps 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 an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sonny Sharrock,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Eric Copeland,
Jawbox,
The Sonics,
Black Sheep,
Cheater Slicks,
The Red Krayola,
Swans,
Maleditus Sound,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Newcleus,
Section 25,
R.M.O.,
Dawn Penn,
Alton Ellis,
Metal Thangz,
Camberwell Now,
E-Dancer,
Subhumans,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lucky Dragons,
Sun City Girls,
John Cale,
H. Thieme,
The Victims,
Radio Birdman,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Index,
Erasure,
a-ha,
Wolf Eyes,
June of 44,
Pet Shop Boys,
Minnie Riperton,
Roger Hodgson,
The Mummies,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Fad Gadget,
World's Most,
Tropical Tobacco,
Accadde A,
Basic Channel,
The United States of America,
Pantaleimon,
LL Cool J,
Blake Baxter,
Ralphi Rosario,
Mr. Review,
Dead Boys,
Interpol,
Soft Cell,
The Durutti Column,
Gabor Szabo,
Pierre Henry,
Brothers Johnson,
Grey Daturas,
Radiohead,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Kerri Chandler,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.