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 Korea South and from Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Gun Club to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Howard Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris & Cosey record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Albert Ayler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
David Axelrod,
FM Einheit,
the Bar-Kays,
Isaac Hayes,
Tomorrow,
Jerry's Kids,
Technova,
Nico,
The Star Department,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Beau Brummels,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dead Boys,
Lou Reed,
Mandrill,
Scott Walker,
Brand Nubian,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
One Last Wish,
R.M.O.,
Quando Quango,
Make Up,
Ronnie Foster,
DJ Style,
Malaria!,
The Young Rascals,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Offenders,
Swans,
Ten City,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Tom Boy,
Eden Ahbez,
Moebius,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Gladiators,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Move,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Deepchord,
Young Marble Giants,
Wasted Youth,
Sandy B,
Kerrie Biddell,
Aswad,
Davy DMX,
U.S. Maple,
Niagra,
Pere Ubu,
The Pretty Things,
L. Decosne,
Morten Harket,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Altered Images,
Matthew Halsall,
Delon & Dalcan,
Arcadia,
D'Angelo,
Carl Craig,
Franke,
Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock.
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.