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 Georgia and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 guitar 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 Freddie Wadling to the dance 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Gang Green,
The Sonics,
New York Dolls,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Angels of Light,
Panda Bear,
China Crisis,
Davy DMX,
John Foxx,
The Standells,
Faraquet,
a-ha,
Aaron Thompson,
The Gun Club,
Nation of Ulysses,
DJ Sneak,
KRS-One,
Curtis Mayfield,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Subhumans,
Lower 48,
Electric Prunes,
The American Breed,
The Cure,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Brick,
Siglo XX,
Crime,
The Count Five,
Outsiders,
Whodini,
Shoche,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Guru Guru,
Accadde A,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Shadows of Knight,
Janne Schatter,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sonic Youth,
The Dead C,
kango's stein massive,
Graham Central Station,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gregory Isaacs,
Robert Hood,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Porter Ricks,
The Last Poets,
AZ,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Moleskins,
the Bar-Kays,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Offenders,
Lee Hazlewood,
Blake Baxter,
Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley.
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.