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 Rwanda and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
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 The Gun Club to the punk 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oblivians,
Skarface,
Infiniti,
Brothers Johnson,
Slick Rick,
Alice Coltrane,
Lucky Dragons,
Bobby Womack,
Terry Callier,
Howard Jones,
Harmonia,
Boredoms,
Loose Ends,
Gang Starr,
Sarah Menescal,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Wire,
Eric Dolphy,
Fat Boys,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Associates,
E-Dancer,
Organ,
OOIOO,
The Index,
The Raincoats,
Popol Vuh,
Ten City,
Qualms,
Supertramp,
Amazonics,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gang Green,
Pere Ubu,
Drexciya,
kango's stein massive,
The Zeros,
The American Breed,
Malaria!,
The Music Machine,
8 Eyed Spy,
Negative Approach,
Unrelated Segments,
Ice-T,
The Stooges,
Spandau Ballet,
Alton Ellis,
Johnny Clarke,
Skriet,
Ohio Players,
Pylon,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Soul Sonic Force,
Blake Baxter,
Camouflage,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Hasil Adkins,
In Retrospect,
The Red Krayola,
F. McDonald,
the Association,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.