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 Ukraine and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the grime 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 Brick. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Five Americans 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Technova record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marcia Griffiths,
Gang Green,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Black Moon,
The Grass Roots,
the Fania All-Stars,
Thee Headcoats,
Peter & Gordon,
the Swans,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Sound,
Arthur Verocai,
The Happenings,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Golliwogs,
Lungfish,
Soulsonic Force,
John Cale,
The Fire Engines,
Deakin,
Rufus Thomas,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tomorrow,
Electric Prunes,
Donny Hathaway,
KRS-One,
Visage,
X-Ray Spex,
Rakim,
Boogie Down Productions,
Warren Ellis,
Robert Wyatt,
Jawbox,
Angry Samoans,
Unwound,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ken Boothe,
Kevin Saunderson,
H. Thieme,
Bauhaus,
JFA,
The Barracudas,
the Normal,
X-102,
Joensuu 1685,
Suburban Knight,
Donald Byrd,
Television Personalities,
Dual Sessions,
Leonard Cohen,
Rod Modell,
Isaac Hayes,
Pussy Galore,
Bad Manners,
Motorama,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Doors,
D'Angelo,
Circle Jerks,
Altered Images,
Fela Kuti,
Eve St. Jones,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.