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 Kenya and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the linndrum 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 One Last Wish to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bob Dylan. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Carl Craig,
AZ,
Sister Nancy,
Eurythmics,
Simply Red,
The Knickerbockers,
the Slits,
Max Romeo,
Quadrant,
The Index,
Crash Course in Science,
Robert Wyatt,
June of 44,
The Angels of Light,
Metal Thangz,
Tommy Roe,
Electric Prunes,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Inner City,
Blossom Toes,
The Red Krayola,
Rod Modell,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Birthday Party,
Youth Brigade,
The Gladiators,
The American Breed,
Funkadelic,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Scientists,
a-ha,
Johnny Clarke,
the Germs,
Popol Vuh,
Slave,
Crispian St. Peters,
Davy DMX,
Mad Mike,
Matthew Bourne,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Black Sheep,
DNA,
Main Source,
Alice Coltrane,
Angry Samoans,
Procol Harum,
The Grass Roots,
Silicon Teens,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Panda Bear,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Radio Birdman,
The Smoke,
The Evens,
Lalo Schifrin,
Dave Gahan,
Gerry Rafferty,
Basic Channel,
The Names,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger.
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.