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 Nepal and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lagos.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Erasure to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Cymande. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
the Fania All-Stars,
Parry Music,
The Cramps,
Essential Logic,
Qualms,
Saccharine Trust,
Boredoms,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Gories,
The United States of America,
The Gladiators,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Henry Cow,
Donald Byrd,
Archie Shepp,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Wings,
Eric Copeland,
Marine Girls,
Alison Limerick,
MC5,
Bill Near,
Marc Almond,
The Golliwogs,
Interpol,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sun City Girls,
Susan Cadogan,
Joensuu 1685,
Symarip,
Fat Boys,
Marcia Griffiths,
the Slits,
Juan Atkins,
Pere Ubu,
H. Thieme,
Howard Jones,
Livin' Joy,
Youth Brigade,
La Düsseldorf,
a-ha,
Erasure,
Marvin Gaye,
Hot Snakes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Kerri Chandler,
Blancmange,
Black Bananas,
Rufus Thomas,
Nick Fraelich,
Dark Day,
The Busters,
Swell Maps,
Jimmy McGriff,
FM Einheit,
Scott Walker,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mars,
Albert Ayler,
The Human League,
Lungfish,
Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad.
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.