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 Philippines and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Nas to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Groovy Waters. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Black Flag,
The Golliwogs,
L. Decosne,
Simply Red,
Wally Richardson,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Seeds,
Soft Machine,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Smoke,
KRS-One,
F. McDonald,
Bootsy Collins,
Cymande,
Magma,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Alarm Clocks,
Minor Threat,
Crash Course in Science,
The Black Dice,
Connie Case,
Bizarre Inc.,
Underground Resistance,
Stiv Bators,
Pantytec,
The United States of America,
Audionom,
Scan 7,
the Association,
Urselle,
Chris & Cosey,
Roger Hodgson,
Nik Kershaw,
John Cale,
The Cramps,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Franke,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Mojo Men,
Bobby Sherman,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Matthew Bourne,
Ossler,
Bob Dylan,
Dawn Penn,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ludus,
Delon & Dalcan,
Monks,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Crooked Eye,
The Leaves,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dorothy Ashby,
Boredoms,
Carl Craig,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Public Enemy,
The Fall,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.