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 Dominican Republic and from Accra.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Copenhagen.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Kerrie Biddell to the techno 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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Panda Bear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pole record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cosmic Jokers,
Crispy Ambulance,
MDC,
Essential Logic,
Matthew Halsall,
Severed Heads,
DNA,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Skatalites,
The Busters,
Bauhaus,
Roxette,
Lee Hazlewood,
Minny Pops,
Josef K,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Outsiders,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Harpers Bizarre,
Clear Light,
New Age Steppers,
Roy Ayers,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jandek,
Unwound,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gang Green,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Nation of Ulysses,
Babytalk,
Angry Samoans,
Jeru the Damaja,
Easy Going,
AZ,
Sam Rivers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Skriet,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Joensuu 1685,
Bobby Womack,
Marine Girls,
Make Up,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Angels of Light,
The J.B.'s,
Thompson Twins,
Ossler,
The Motions,
DJ Style,
Marvin Gaye,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kenny Larkin,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sight & Sound,
Q65,
Mr. Review,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Barracudas,
Kerrie Biddell,
John Holt,
Brand Nubian,
the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars.
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.