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 Bhutan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Cairo.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Crispian St. Peters to the electroclash 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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Bootsy Collins,
Goldenarms,
Ossler,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Davy DMX,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Charles Mingus,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Make Up,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Residents,
Spoonie Gee,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Index,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Duran Duran,
The Smoke,
Qualms,
Scratch Acid,
Stetsasonic,
The Busters,
Crooked Eye,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Minor Threat,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Cheater Slicks,
Shuggie Otis,
Brass Construction,
Black Bananas,
Moby Grape,
Kool Moe Dee,
Schoolly D,
the Soft Cell,
Delon & Dalcan,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Victims,
The Fall,
Janne Schatter,
Altered Images,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Nas,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Blackbyrds,
Fad Gadget,
Basic Channel,
New Order,
Television,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Evens,
Monks,
Nik Kershaw,
Hot Snakes,
Pagans,
Pere Ubu,
Average White Band,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Dawn Penn,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan.
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.