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 Portugal and from Philadelphia.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the rhodes 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 James Chance & The Contortions to the disco 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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All Depeche Mode tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Intrusion,
Connie Case,
Drexciya,
Erykah Badu,
Stiv Bators,
Eric Copeland,
The Residents,
Oblivians,
Anthony Braxton,
The Grass Roots,
Donald Byrd,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Sonics,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gong,
Interpol,
John Cale,
Hardrive,
The Mummies,
Youth Brigade,
Al Stewart,
Tomorrow,
Sixth Finger,
Agitation Free,
F. McDonald,
Lakeside,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Vladislav Delay,
Qualms,
Tom Boy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Arab on Radar,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Brass Construction,
Sällskapet,
Avey Tare,
the Soft Cell,
Animal Collective,
Ronan,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Cure,
The Gories,
Pet Shop Boys,
In Retrospect,
Derrick May,
Swans,
The Slits,
DJ Style,
The Angels of Light,
Gang Green,
Soft Machine,
The American Breed,
The Victims,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
A Certain Ratio,
Joy Division,
Royal Trux,
Electric Prunes,
Theoretical Girls,
DNA,
X-102,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.