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 Micronesia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Lungfish to the grime 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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barbara Tucker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Nik Kershaw,
Scientists,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Lucky Dragons,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Patti Smith,
Whodini,
Blake Baxter,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Real Kids,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lou Reed,
Lyres,
The Searchers,
Sandy B,
June of 44,
Lalann,
Pet Shop Boys,
Agent Orange,
Goldenarms,
Hoover,
Angry Samoans,
Crash Course in Science,
Radiohead,
Soft Cell,
Deepchord,
Ponytail,
Tomorrow,
Fatback Band,
Spandau Ballet,
Eric B and Rakim,
Scion,
The Slits,
The Gap Band,
Moss Icon,
Ronnie Foster,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Scan 7,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Fania All-Stars,
48th St. Collective,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Aloha Tigers,
Clear Light,
The Smiths,
Little Man,
The New Christs,
The American Breed,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Electric Prunes,
Radio Birdman,
Bobby Byrd,
The Monochrome Set,
The Durutti Column,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Leonard Cohen,
New Age Steppers,
Maurizio,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.