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 Mexico and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 kango's stein massive to the jazz 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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yaz,
Fela Kuti,
Von Mondo,
The Gladiators,
Silicon Teens,
Brand Nubian,
Boz Scaggs,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Half Japanese,
Minny Pops,
Lyres,
Grauzone,
Flamin' Groovies,
Mary Jane Girls,
DNA,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Pretty Things,
Suicide,
A Flock of Seagulls,
David McCallum,
Arab on Radar,
John Cale,
Faraquet,
Sällskapet,
Yellowson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ornette Coleman,
X-101,
The Barracudas,
Ponytail,
Absolute Body Control,
UT,
Graham Central Station,
The Remains,
Cheater Slicks,
Roxy Music,
MDC,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bobby Womack,
Harpers Bizarre,
Warren Ellis,
The Litter,
Colin Newman,
Bang On A Can,
The Real Kids,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Amazonics,
48th St. Collective,
The Black Dice,
Derrick Morgan,
The Moleskins,
Wolf Eyes,
Brass Construction,
Todd Terry,
The Saints,
Intrusion,
Iggy Pop,
Jeru the Damaja,
Country Teasers,
Danielle Patucci,
the Soft Cell,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.