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 Seychelles and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 harpsichord 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 cv313 to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Christie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
The Dead C,
Rosa Yemen,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Buckinghams,
The Human League,
Ralphi Rosario,
Severed Heads,
The Beau Brummels,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Byron Stingily,
Andrew Hill,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Saints,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kaleidoscope,
Circle Jerks,
Bauhaus,
The Angels of Light,
The Cramps,
Radio Birdman,
Saccharine Trust,
Minutemen,
Pantaleimon,
Magma,
Chris Corsano,
X-101,
Quadrant,
Jacques Brel,
Marine Girls,
The Gladiators,
The Mojo Men,
Simply Red,
Echospace,
Amon Düül,
Bob Dylan,
The Happenings,
Soul II Soul,
Scrapy,
Wings,
Accadde A,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Alarm Clocks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
DJ Style,
MDC,
The Seeds,
Freddie Wadling,
The Moleskins,
Bluetip,
Yusef Lateef,
Flamin' Groovies,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sonny Sharrock,
Clear Light,
Lee Hazlewood,
Rakim,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
B.T. Express,
Stockholm Monsters,
the Bar-Kays,
The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five.
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.