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 Qatar and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 sitar 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 Rosa Yemen to the disco 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brand Nubian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Deepchord,
Popol Vuh,
The Victims,
Patti Smith,
Pantaleimon,
the Swans,
The Gun Club,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Rekid,
T. Rex,
Animal Collective,
Marmalade,
Eric Dolphy,
Monolake,
Q and Not U,
Boz Scaggs,
Faust,
Mary Jane Girls,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Country Teasers,
Bootsy Collins,
Camberwell Now,
Eddi Front,
Iggy Pop,
Niagra,
Alton Ellis,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Smiths,
Brass Construction,
Von Mondo,
The Alarm Clocks,
Schoolly D,
The Vogues,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Happenings,
Surgeon,
Ken Boothe,
Glambeats Corp.,
Quadrant,
Joensuu 1685,
Franke,
John Foxx,
Andrew Hill,
The Golliwogs,
Half Japanese,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Bar-Kays,
Stiv Bators,
Intrusion,
Eve St. Jones,
The Angels of Light,
Icehouse,
Model 500,
Index,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Black Dice,
K-Klass,
The United States of America,
Das Ding,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.