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 Ecuador and from Manila.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Depeche Mode to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All 10cc tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arab on Radar,
Jeru the Damaja,
Hashim,
Inner City,
The Star Department,
Toni Rubio,
H. Thieme,
Pussy Galore,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Isaac Hayes,
Harry Pussy,
Ultimate Spinach,
Chrome,
Niagra,
The Happenings,
Infiniti,
Rekid,
Gastr Del Sol,
Radiopuhelimet,
Suburban Knight,
Country Teasers,
The Dirtbombs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fear,
Ludus,
Rod Modell,
Eli Mardock,
Juan Atkins,
Kaleidoscope,
Sugar Minott,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Blancmange,
Public Enemy,
A Certain Ratio,
Nirvana,
Oblivians,
Soft Cell,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Donny Hathaway,
DNA,
Underground Resistance,
LL Cool J,
Albert Ayler,
Blossom Toes,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Count Five,
Alton Ellis,
The Saints,
The New Christs,
Joy Division,
Mandrill,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Dennis Brown,
Erasure,
Talk Talk,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Flash Fearless,
Brand Nubian,
The Moleskins,
Aural Exciters,
Groovy Waters,
Scratch Acid,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.