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 Guinea-Bissau and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 the Sonics to the punk 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 The Dave Clark Five. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
The Kinks,
Parry Music,
The Evens,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Fire Engines,
Crispian St. Peters,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Mars,
Television,
The Birthday Party,
Black Pus,
Sugar Minott,
Mr. Review,
the Swans,
Con Funk Shun,
Rod Modell,
Banda Bassotti,
Groovy Waters,
Junior Murvin,
One Last Wish,
Funkadelic,
Newcleus,
The Vogues,
World's Most,
Pantaleimon,
Moebius,
The Seeds,
Eden Ahbez,
The Raincoats,
Barbara Tucker,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Minny Pops,
Chris & Cosey,
The Blackbyrds,
Symarip,
Sister Nancy,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
R.M.O.,
DJ Sneak,
Jawbox,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pierre Henry,
The Flesh Eaters,
Shuggie Otis,
Joey Negro,
Section 25,
Man Eating Sloth,
Anthony Braxton,
Hot Snakes,
Johnny Clarke,
Dead Boys,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Aswad,
Juan Atkins,
The American Breed,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Moody Blues,
Donald Byrd,
Camouflage,
Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station.
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.