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 Nicaragua and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Reagan Youth to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Pet Shop Boys,
Joensuu 1685,
The Human League,
Subhumans,
Gastr Del Sol,
Neu!,
the Bar-Kays,
Pylon,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Simply Red,
Crime,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Victims,
Visage,
Whodini,
Kenny Larkin,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ralphi Rosario,
Camberwell Now,
Al Stewart,
Rosa Yemen,
Unrelated Segments,
The Dirtbombs,
Connie Case,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Average White Band,
Hashim,
The Searchers,
Rites of Spring,
The Misunderstood,
DJ Style,
Darondo,
Mr. Review,
The American Breed,
Warsaw,
Babytalk,
The Barracudas,
LL Cool J,
The Buckinghams,
The Gladiators,
Tomorrow,
Quadrant,
Warren Ellis,
Mark Hollis,
Sugar Minott,
Brick,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bluetip,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
David Axelrod,
Bobby Sherman,
Negative Approach,
Heaven 17,
Angry Samoans,
The Names,
Animal Collective,
The Golliwogs,
Faraquet,
Rekid,
Man Parrish,
The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills.
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.