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 Cape Verde and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Dead Boys to the punk 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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Teasers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
Scion,
John Cale,
Marine Girls,
Porter Ricks,
Bobby Womack,
Tubeway Army,
Dennis Brown,
The Birthday Party,
Stockholm Monsters,
Terry Callier,
Bootsy Collins,
Public Enemy,
Prince Buster,
Section 25,
Liliput,
Colin Newman,
FM Einheit,
Deepchord,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Minor Threat,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Parry Music,
Kerri Chandler,
The American Breed,
The Knickerbockers,
X-101,
Trumans Water,
New Age Steppers,
Carl Craig,
The Offenders,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Graham Central Station,
Nas,
Gastr Del Sol,
Alison Limerick,
the Sonics,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Skriet,
The Flesh Eaters,
Patti Smith,
Hot Snakes,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Minutemen,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ronan,
The Blues Magoos,
Delta 5,
Kevin Saunderson,
Unwound,
UT,
Jandek,
Thee Headcoats,
Sonic Youth,
The Grass Roots,
Drexciya,
Soft Cell,
June of 44,
The Golliwogs,
Eric B and Rakim,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.