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 Gambia and from Philadelphia.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Porter Ricks to the electroclash 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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All The Skatalites tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Zeros record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Count Five 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?
Arab on Radar,
Sugar Minott,
Monolake,
Gang Starr,
Mr. Review,
These Immortal Souls,
Bizarre Inc.,
Los Fastidios,
Warsaw,
Graham Central Station,
Panda Bear,
The Flesh Eaters,
Marine Girls,
Eric B and Rakim,
Johnny Osbourne,
Wolf Eyes,
Ice-T,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mary Jane Girls,
Patti Smith,
The Divine Comedy,
L. Decosne,
Gang Green,
Gregory Isaacs,
Joy Division,
the Germs,
Scan 7,
Boz Scaggs,
The Sound,
The Durutti Column,
Wire,
H. Thieme,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Monks,
Reagan Youth,
Niagra,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Blossom Toes,
The Dead C,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bob Dylan,
New York Dolls,
Pierre Henry,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Dirtbombs,
The Smoke,
Crispy Ambulance,
Unrelated Segments,
Cymande,
The Trojans,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Radiopuhelimet,
Basic Channel,
Qualms,
Chris Corsano,
8 Eyed Spy,
Minutemen,
Lalann,
The Searchers,
Black Sheep,
The Moody Blues,
Eli Mardock,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.