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 Belize and from Spokane.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Patti Smith to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Erasure,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rekid,
Godley & Creme,
the Soft Cell,
Lower 48,
Jeff Mills,
Dawn Penn,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Public Enemy,
Joe Smooth,
Chris & Cosey,
New York Dolls,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Last Poets,
Jerry's Kids,
Scientists,
Zero Boys,
Aloha Tigers,
Henry Cow,
The Selecter,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Vogues,
The Black Dice,
Lou Reed,
Tommy Roe,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lee Hazlewood,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Misunderstood,
The Victims,
Magazine,
Derrick May,
New Order,
Slick Rick,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Neil Young,
Neu!,
Funky Four + One,
Max Romeo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gabor Szabo,
Jawbox,
The Knickerbockers,
The Young Rascals,
The Slits,
Brass Construction,
X-Ray Spex,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Music Machine,
Groovy Waters,
The Sound,
Gang Green,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Amazonics,
Roxy Music,
Kerri Chandler,
Loose Ends,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Lou Christie,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.