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 Luxembourg and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Delhi.
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 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 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 Electric Prunes to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Wake. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dawn Penn 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 organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Intrusion,
Visage,
Archie Shepp,
EPMD,
Ronan,
Model 500,
Qualms,
Sparks,
Kenny Larkin,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bush Tetras,
B.T. Express,
This Heat,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Cecil Taylor,
The Birthday Party,
Masters at Work,
Angry Samoans,
Lyres,
Junior Murvin,
Silicon Teens,
Jeru the Damaja,
Young Marble Giants,
Quando Quango,
Smog,
Nirvana,
Mandrill,
Crime,
The Fugs,
Bobbi Humphrey,
ABBA,
Laurel Aitken,
Tropical Tobacco,
Skriet,
The Residents,
Radio Birdman,
Aswad,
Maleditus Sound,
CMW,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Make Up,
Amazonics,
James White and The Blacks,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Soft Machine,
Robert Hood,
Blake Baxter,
The Happenings,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Electric Prunes,
The Wake,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Unrelated Segments,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Tubeway Army,
John Cale,
Mad Mike,
Avey Tare,
Brothers Johnson,
Hardrive,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.