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 Somalia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Hong Kong.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Lindisfarne to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Association. All the underground hits.
All Eden Ahbez tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monochrome Set record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
Jeru the Damaja,
Aural Exciters,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Glenn Branca,
Second Layer,
Crash Course in Science,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Organ,
Neu!,
Junior Murvin,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pussy Galore,
Hardrive,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Anakelly,
Public Enemy,
Qualms,
David Bowie,
Godley & Creme,
The Techniques,
Buzzcocks,
Frankie Knuckles,
Model 500,
Sixth Finger,
Sonny Sharrock,
Blossom Toes,
Pulsallama,
Grey Daturas,
E-Dancer,
Joe Smooth,
Mr. Review,
Soft Cell,
The Golliwogs,
Ten City,
Groovy Waters,
Gerry Rafferty,
The United States of America,
Black Bananas,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Soft Machine,
Todd Rundgren,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Leonard Cohen,
Kurtis Blow,
X-Ray Spex,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Erykah Badu,
Pagans,
Ludus,
Outsiders,
Sex Pistols,
Lower 48,
Nick Fraelich,
H. Thieme,
Sound Behaviour,
Cymande,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
James White and The Blacks,
Dark Day,
Amon Düül,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.