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 Sweden and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Mummies to the dance 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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Bad Manners,
Mr. Review,
Quantec,
Charles Mingus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Excepter,
U.S. Maple,
The Litter,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Fire Engines,
Idris Muhammad,
Rufus Thomas,
Dark Day,
Accadde A,
Gang of Four,
Surgeon,
Monks,
The Fuzztones,
Ronnie Foster,
The Red Krayola,
The Angels of Light,
Fatback Band,
Crime,
Country Teasers,
Reagan Youth,
EPMD,
PIL,
The Divine Comedy,
John Coltrane,
Cal Tjader,
Althea and Donna,
Marmalade,
New Age Steppers,
Andrew Hill,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pere Ubu,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Hashim,
Alton Ellis,
Ituana,
Nas,
The Associates,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Bootsy Collins,
The Dirtbombs,
Junior Murvin,
Livin' Joy,
Jawbox,
The Pretty Things,
Masters at Work,
Roy Ayers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Smog,
The Grass Roots,
The Buckinghams,
The Misunderstood,
Joyce Sims,
Joe Smooth,
Neu!,
The Kinks,
Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls.
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.