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 Portugal and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Deepchord to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Scott Walker. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Light Orchestra 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fuzztones,
June of 44,
In Retrospect,
Procol Harum,
DNA,
Bobbi Humphrey,
the Association,
Tommy Roe,
Harry Pussy,
Gichy Dan,
Faust,
Neil Young,
Wire,
Darondo,
Arthur Verocai,
Gabor Szabo,
The Victims,
Camberwell Now,
The Slackers,
Y Pants,
The Divine Comedy,
Khruangbin,
Juan Atkins,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kerri Chandler,
Organ,
Second Layer,
Gerry Rafferty,
Black Pus,
FM Einheit,
Dennis Brown,
These Immortal Souls,
New York Dolls,
Brick,
Bill Near,
Reuben Wilson,
Basic Channel,
Archie Shepp,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Shuggie Otis,
Fela Kuti,
Matthew Halsall,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Zapp,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Count Five,
Sight & Sound,
Hot Snakes,
Das Ding,
Icehouse,
The Sound,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mr. Review,
48th St. Collective,
Peter and Kerry,
Bootsy Collins,
Deepchord,
Gil Scott Heron,
Scratch Acid,
Infiniti,
The Cowsills,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.