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 Slovenia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord 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 Eric Dolphy to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Panda Bear. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gastr Del Sol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxy Music,
Unwound,
Scan 7,
Tommy Roe,
Jandek,
Amazonics,
Wolf Eyes,
The Names,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Red Krayola,
The Dave Clark Five,
Skarface,
Vladislav Delay,
Joensuu 1685,
Animal Collective,
Popol Vuh,
Oblivians,
Television,
Eric Copeland,
Alison Limerick,
The Residents,
EPMD,
Radiohead,
Jacob Miller,
Maurizio,
Ronan,
Todd Rundgren,
Talk Talk,
Yaz,
Slick Rick,
Pulsallama,
John Coltrane,
Susan Cadogan,
The Leaves,
Rosa Yemen,
Sun Ra,
Cecil Taylor,
Cheater Slicks,
T. Rex,
Lower 48,
The Standells,
Mandrill,
Bang On A Can,
Sandy B,
the Swans,
Roy Ayers,
Nick Fraelich,
E-Dancer,
Q and Not U,
Hot Snakes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Saints,
Electric Prunes,
Morten Harket,
The Fortunes,
Magazine,
Ten City,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Raincoats,
Soul II Soul,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.