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 Philippines and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Bootsy Collins to the crunk 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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moleskins 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
Magma,
Sister Nancy,
Soft Cell,
Minor Threat,
Blancmange,
Stereo Dub,
Tomorrow,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cal Tjader,
Clear Light,
Whodini,
Gil Scott Heron,
Tears for Fears,
John Foxx,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gastr Del Sol,
Half Japanese,
Swell Maps,
Nils Olav,
Tres Demented,
Con Funk Shun,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The American Breed,
John Cale,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Hoover,
The Stooges,
Thee Headcoats,
Lindisfarne,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kurtis Blow,
Mission of Burma,
Joey Negro,
Blake Baxter,
Bronski Beat,
Suicide,
Crispian St. Peters,
Marine Girls,
Monolake,
Lakeside,
Parry Music,
Michelle Simonal,
Sun Ra,
Average White Band,
Flipper,
Soul II Soul,
Bush Tetras,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Beau Brummels,
The Motions,
Malaria!,
Bobby Hutcherson,
a-ha,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Das Ding,
Ponytail,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Todd Rundgren,
Black Pus,
Lalann,
Bang On A Can,
Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone.
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.