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 Egypt and from Copenhagen.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Chris & Cosey to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & John Cale 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mandrill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
Wally Richardson,
Circle Jerks,
Model 500,
Visage,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ossler,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bush Tetras,
Laurel Aitken,
Heaven 17,
X-102,
The Young Rascals,
The Pop Group,
Wasted Youth,
David Bowie,
Talk Talk,
Zero Boys,
Inner City,
Oneida,
Supertramp,
Cymande,
Jacob Miller,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Peter and Kerry,
Thee Headcoats,
Unwound,
Amazonics,
John Cale,
Hoover,
Prince Buster,
The Moody Blues,
The Gap Band,
The Monochrome Set,
Faust,
New York Dolls,
Second Layer,
Carl Craig,
John Holt,
Pole,
Jawbox,
Erykah Badu,
Roxy Music,
Joe Smooth,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Detroit Cobras,
Soul Sonic Force,
Nico,
Leonard Cohen,
Aaron Thompson,
Gichy Dan,
June Days,
The Grass Roots,
The Doobie Brothers,
Roy Ayers,
Al Stewart,
Half Japanese,
Rosa Yemen,
Susan Cadogan,
Skaos,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Slits,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.