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 Sudan and from New York.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Tim Buckley to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
Juan Atkins,
Alton Ellis,
The Fire Engines,
Eli Mardock,
Aloha Tigers,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Nils Olav,
Quando Quango,
Archie Shepp,
Surgeon,
Donny Hathaway,
JFA,
Suburban Knight,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Scan 7,
Bob Dylan,
Erykah Badu,
Jeff Mills,
Animal Collective,
Severed Heads,
Technova,
The Raincoats,
The Fortunes,
Parry Music,
Mary Jane Girls,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Golliwogs,
Rekid,
Rakim,
Altered Images,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Albert Ayler,
The Saints,
Andrew Hill,
H. Thieme,
Sugar Minott,
Jacob Miller,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ituana,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Red Krayola,
Subhumans,
Eric B and Rakim,
Reagan Youth,
June of 44,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Grass Roots,
MC5,
Vainqueur,
Audionom,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sixth Finger,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jesper Dahlback,
Kerri Chandler,
Niagra,
The Invisible,
Colin Newman,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.