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 Saudi Arabia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the 808 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 Rod Modell to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Cybotron. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Osbourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
EPMD,
The Star Department,
The Dave Clark Five,
Duran Duran,
Severed Heads,
Ornette Coleman,
Letta Mbulu,
Black Pus,
Hasil Adkins,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Flamin' Groovies,
Zapp,
Panda Bear,
Los Fastidios,
The Monks,
Eddi Front,
Sonny Sharrock,
Can,
Crash Course in Science,
Jimmy McGriff,
Minny Pops,
New York Dolls,
the Soft Cell,
Excepter,
Matthew Bourne,
Ken Boothe,
B.T. Express,
June of 44,
Mr. Review,
Boredoms,
The Dead C,
Urselle,
The Wake,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Crime,
Avey Tare,
Archie Shepp,
The Cosmic Jokers,
a-ha,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fort Wilson Riot,
cv313,
Arcadia,
Wolf Eyes,
The Neon Judgement,
Funkadelic,
The Raincoats,
Arab on Radar,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Procol Harum,
PIL,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Velvet Underground,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bobby Womack,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ponytail,
The Shadows of Knight,
Massinfluence,
MDC,
Michelle Simonal,
The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos.
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.