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 Romania and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 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 Second Layer to the grunge 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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
Ponytail,
Mandrill,
The Birthday Party,
Eric Dolphy,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sällskapet,
Marmalade,
the Soft Cell,
Byron Stingily,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Wire,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Supertramp,
Drexciya,
Howard Jones,
Gang of Four,
ABC,
Eurythmics,
Frankie Knuckles,
Erasure,
Ralphi Rosario,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Country Teasers,
Siglo XX,
Faust,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lee Hazlewood,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
L. Decosne,
Johnny Clarke,
Max Romeo,
Rhythm & Sound,
Ornette Coleman,
Stockholm Monsters,
Saccharine Trust,
China Crisis,
The United States of America,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Associates,
Angry Samoans,
Radio Birdman,
Fad Gadget,
Infiniti,
Flash Fearless,
Grauzone,
Anthony Braxton,
The Residents,
Youth Brigade,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
June Days,
Robert Görl,
Pantaleimon,
Clear Light,
Jimmy McGriff,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Litter,
Trumans Water,
Cecil Taylor,
Danielle Patucci,
Shoche,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.