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 Lithuania and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 David Bowie 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap 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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
T. Rex,
James White and The Blacks,
The Toasters,
Moebius,
EPMD,
Joey Negro,
Brick,
The Happenings,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Saints,
Wally Richardson,
Faraquet,
Swell Maps,
The Selecter,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Modern Lovers,
DJ Style,
Aloha Tigers,
Amon Düül,
Das Ding,
Man Parrish,
DNA,
The Motions,
Rapeman,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mad Mike,
Gang Starr,
Sonny Sharrock,
Infiniti,
Tim Buckley,
Spandau Ballet,
Blossom Toes,
the Normal,
H. Thieme,
Yellowson,
Pulsallama,
Accadde A,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Groovy Waters,
Marc Almond,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Ornette Coleman,
Anthony Braxton,
Henry Cow,
Albert Ayler,
Sam Rivers,
Michelle Simonal,
E-Dancer,
The Barracudas,
Index,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Whodini,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Techniques,
Roger Hodgson,
Johnny Clarke,
Outsiders,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.