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 Samoa and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Stiv Bators to the crunk 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 ABBA. All the underground hits.
All Sparks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Amazonics,
Blancmange,
The Mojo Men,
Henry Cow,
Visage,
Jacques Brel,
the Association,
Sarah Menescal,
R.M.O.,
The Motions,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Connie Case,
Bluetip,
Slick Rick,
Reuben Wilson,
Fugazi,
The Real Kids,
Yaz,
Gil Scott Heron,
Crime,
Grandmaster Flash,
One Last Wish,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gastr Del Sol,
8 Eyed Spy,
Fela Kuti,
Albert Ayler,
The Fugs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Matthew Bourne,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Cameo,
Fear,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Simply Red,
Quantec,
Ronan,
Jeff Mills,
Skarface,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
X-Ray Spex,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
China Crisis,
The American Breed,
Harry Pussy,
Leonard Cohen,
Gong,
Parry Music,
Rod Modell,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Aloha Tigers,
Unrelated Segments,
Skaos,
Peter & Gordon,
Nick Fraelich,
Oblivians,
Desert Stars,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.