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 Afghanistan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Mr. Review 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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a La Düsseldorf record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Iggy Pop,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
James White and The Blacks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Oneida,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Subhumans,
Spoonie Gee,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Symarip,
Talk Talk,
Shoche,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Donald Byrd,
Cymande,
Icehouse,
Soulsonic Force,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Dead C,
Pantaleimon,
The Seeds,
Steve Hackett,
Mad Mike,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Moody Blues,
Jeff Mills,
The Happenings,
Bill Wells,
The Fall,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Con Funk Shun,
Mary Jane Girls,
Motorama,
Aaron Thompson,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gabor Szabo,
K-Klass,
The Star Department,
The Electric Prunes,
Darondo,
The Fortunes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
World's Most,
Pylon,
Sparks,
Tres Demented,
Rufus Thomas,
Arab on Radar,
Massinfluence,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Marc Almond,
ABBA,
Soft Cell,
Swell Maps,
Yazoo,
Organ,
Das Ding,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.