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 Sweden and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 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 David Bowie to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band 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 rock 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 mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultravox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gastr Del Sol,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Tropical Tobacco,
Archie Shepp,
Echospace,
Trumans Water,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Skatalites,
Donald Byrd,
Grey Daturas,
The Move,
Organ,
The Index,
Hot Snakes,
Flipper,
Lindisfarne,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Average White Band,
World's Most,
Accadde A,
Grandmaster Flash,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Altered Images,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Country Teasers,
Hashim,
The Zeros,
Los Fastidios,
Mission of Burma,
Interpol,
Sonic Youth,
The Flesh Eaters,
Magma,
Delta 5,
Skriet,
Von Mondo,
Guru Guru,
DNA,
Jeff Lynne,
Lebanon Hanover,
Cal Tjader,
Visage,
The Divine Comedy,
Faust,
Yusef Lateef,
Bluetip,
The Monks,
The Names,
Kas Product,
Little Man,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Kurtis Blow,
Sex Pistols,
Marvin Gaye,
Harpers Bizarre,
Kenny Larkin,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Crispian St. Peters,
Cecil Taylor,
Bobby Womack,
June Days,
Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons.
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.