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 United Kingdom and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 Taipei and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Make Up record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maleditus Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Alison Limerick,
the Germs,
The Sonics,
X-102,
The Wake,
Grauzone,
Eli Mardock,
T.S.O.L.,
Lucky Dragons,
Tropical Tobacco,
Barclay James Harvest,
Gang Starr,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Susan Cadogan,
David Bowie,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Invisible,
The Cure,
Electric Prunes,
Au Pairs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Crash Course in Science,
Yellowson,
Barry Ungar,
Average White Band,
The Blackbyrds,
Basic Channel,
Echospace,
Procol Harum,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sixth Finger,
Section 25,
The Stooges,
Bang On A Can,
Minutemen,
Kerri Chandler,
Mr. Review,
Ten City,
Letta Mbulu,
Minny Pops,
Sister Nancy,
James White and The Blacks,
B.T. Express,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Roger Hodgson,
Steve Hackett,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Toasters,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Frankie Knuckles,
the Bar-Kays,
Faust,
Simply Red,
Man Eating Sloth,
Desert Stars,
Laurel Aitken,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Khruangbin,
Mark Hollis,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Divine Comedy,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.