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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 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 Sällskapet to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All The Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
June Days,
Sex Pistols,
Carl Craig,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Piero Umiliani,
One Last Wish,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Surgeon,
Amazonics,
Black Bananas,
Albert Ayler,
Big Daddy Kane,
Dark Day,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
David McCallum,
Blossom Toes,
Soft Cell,
Ohio Players,
Malaria!,
Bill Near,
Wally Richardson,
Joy Division,
The Standells,
Talk Talk,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Mojo Men,
Gichy Dan,
Roxy Music,
Robert Hood,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Remains,
The Red Krayola,
The Music Machine,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lebanon Hanover,
Skaos,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Wolf Eyes,
Rod Modell,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Swell Maps,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Kinks,
Eli Mardock,
Monolake,
Al Stewart,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Zeros,
JFA,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bill Wells,
Iggy Pop,
Rhythm & Sound,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Minutemen,
Sam Rivers,
Arcadia,
Babytalk,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.