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 Kuwait and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Durutti Column to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Busters. All the underground hits.
All Aloha Tigers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Smiths,
Alphaville,
Tom Boy,
Minny Pops,
The Monochrome Set,
The Shadows of Knight,
Smog,
Todd Terry,
Bootsy Collins,
Quando Quango,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Music Machine,
Livin' Joy,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Saccharine Trust,
The Index,
Radio Birdman,
Harpers Bizarre,
Suburban Knight,
Moss Icon,
The Kinks,
Ponytail,
Jandek,
The Doors,
The Searchers,
The Real Kids,
T.S.O.L.,
Oneida,
Y Pants,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Joyce Sims,
Con Funk Shun,
Archie Shepp,
James White and The Blacks,
The Zeros,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Franke,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Chris Corsano,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Selecter,
B.T. Express,
Scion,
Index,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Gun Club,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Seeds,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Fortunes,
Von Mondo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Yaz,
Slave,
KRS-One,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pierre Henry,
The Buckinghams,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.