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 Congo and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the sitar 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 New York Dolls to the techno 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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jimmy McGriff record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Chris Corsano,
John Lydon,
Ludus,
8 Eyed Spy,
Glenn Branca,
Lalo Schifrin,
Idris Muhammad,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Hashim,
Matthew Halsall,
the Association,
CMW,
Carl Craig,
Arab on Radar,
One Last Wish,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Slave,
The Durutti Column,
Ronnie Foster,
The Beau Brummels,
Y Pants,
The Trojans,
Eve St. Jones,
Quantec,
Bauhaus,
Dawn Penn,
Sparks,
Neil Young,
Tim Buckley,
DNA,
Marvin Gaye,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lindisfarne,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Blossom Toes,
Isaac Hayes,
Dorothy Ashby,
Hasil Adkins,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Organ,
Rod Modell,
Andrew Hill,
Moby Grape,
The Residents,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Blancmange,
Sound Behaviour,
New Age Steppers,
Japan,
Steve Hackett,
Severed Heads,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Buzzcocks,
The Grass Roots,
Crispy Ambulance,
Schoolly D,
Banda Bassotti,
The Black Dice,
Ituana,
Johnny Clarke,
Mandrill,
Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul.
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.