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 St Lucia and from Stockholm.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 The Names to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Pylon. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
Althea and Donna,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Man Eating Sloth,
Oneida,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jerry's Kids,
Harmonia,
John Cale,
Roger Hodgson,
Franke,
Chris & Cosey,
Basic Channel,
John Foxx,
Rekid,
Deepchord,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Henry Cow,
Stereo Dub,
Erykah Badu,
The Flesh Eaters,
Crispy Ambulance,
CMW,
Das Ding,
Pantaleimon,
David McCallum,
The Durutti Column,
Moss Icon,
Whodini,
Sparks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pussy Galore,
Livin' Joy,
Con Funk Shun,
Drive Like Jehu,
Amazonics,
The Index,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rhythm & Sound,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Joyce Sims,
KRS-One,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Deakin,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Underground Resistance,
Cameo,
Robert Wyatt,
Maleditus Sound,
Urselle,
Altered Images,
The Toasters,
Lalo Schifrin,
8 Eyed Spy,
Popol Vuh,
Pole,
Mary Jane Girls,
Glenn Branca,
Grandmaster Flash,
Joey Negro,
Jeru the Damaja,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.