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 Yemen and from Sao Paulo.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 Jacques Brel to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All New Order tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spoonie Gee record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a E-Dancer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Animal Collective,
The Evens,
The Blues Magoos,
Prince Buster,
Nico,
K-Klass,
The Busters,
The Divine Comedy,
The Last Poets,
Severed Heads,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bronski Beat,
Alice Coltrane,
Tears for Fears,
Matthew Halsall,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Modern Lovers,
Chris Corsano,
Morten Harket,
June of 44,
Fela Kuti,
Faraquet,
The Durutti Column,
Althea and Donna,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Nick Fraelich,
Lyres,
E-Dancer,
Marc Almond,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Janne Schatter,
Sex Pistols,
Howard Jones,
Lalann,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Moebius,
Cymande,
Leonard Cohen,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lalo Schifrin,
Rod Modell,
Marine Girls,
Throbbing Gristle,
ABC,
Harmonia,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Brand Nubian,
The Fire Engines,
Lungfish,
Newcleus,
Aural Exciters,
LL Cool J,
Banda Bassotti,
The Smiths,
Black Sheep,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Black Bananas,
Roy Ayers,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.