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 Chad and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Man Parrish to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Roy Ayers. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eyeless In Gaza 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
Brand Nubian,
Lucky Dragons,
Grey Daturas,
Unrelated Segments,
Nirvana,
Los Fastidios,
Pagans,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sandy B,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Marmalade,
Sonic Youth,
Electric Prunes,
The Raincoats,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Make Up,
Donald Byrd,
Brass Construction,
Tom Boy,
UT,
Wings,
The Misunderstood,
Robert Hood,
Patti Smith,
Byron Stingily,
Amon Düül II,
Graham Central Station,
Harry Pussy,
Morten Harket,
Surgeon,
Chrome,
Hasil Adkins,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Moleskins,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Association,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Adolescents,
The Shadows of Knight,
Nick Fraelich,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Alphaville,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Wally Richardson,
Funky Four + One,
The Black Dice,
The Pretty Things,
The Divine Comedy,
Lee Hazlewood,
Matthew Bourne,
Steve Hackett,
Sister Nancy,
Ossler,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Depeche Mode,
Grandmaster Flash,
Country Teasers,
Boz Scaggs,
Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig.
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.