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 Andorra and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bob Dylan,
The New Christs,
Mr. Review,
Zapp,
The Fortunes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Public Image Ltd.,
Pierre Henry,
Mad Mike,
These Immortal Souls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Index,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Real Kids,
The Martian,
Ralphi Rosario,
Yellowson,
The Electric Prunes,
Con Funk Shun,
The Neon Judgement,
Hashim,
The Fuzztones,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Cowsills,
The Beau Brummels,
Khruangbin,
Robert Hood,
Camberwell Now,
Agitation Free,
Man Parrish,
Sight & Sound,
Nas,
Skarface,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gong,
The Sonics,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Carl Craig,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Alison Limerick,
Skaos,
Simply Red,
Black Pus,
D'Angelo,
Chris Corsano,
China Crisis,
K-Klass,
Inner City,
The Saints,
Circle Jerks,
Brothers Johnson,
Jeff Lynne,
The Smiths,
Ludus,
Easy Going,
Max Romeo,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots.
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.