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 Malta and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Sao Paulo.
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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the funk 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 Quando Quango. All the underground hits.
All Kool Moe Dee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Slick Rick,
Soul Sonic Force,
Subhumans,
Peter and Kerry,
The Smiths,
Gong,
Stetsasonic,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Quantec,
Graham Central Station,
Spandau Ballet,
the Fania All-Stars,
Intrusion,
The Modern Lovers,
the Soft Cell,
Peter & Gordon,
The Names,
Glenn Branca,
Marvin Gaye,
H. Thieme,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Spoonie Gee,
Erykah Badu,
Popol Vuh,
Godley & Creme,
Ken Boothe,
Sex Pistols,
Amon Düül,
Darondo,
Angry Samoans,
Bobby Sherman,
Brick,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
DJ Style,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Erasure,
Rekid,
Pulsallama,
La Düsseldorf,
Carl Craig,
Fear,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Radiopuhelimet,
Neil Young,
Boredoms,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Rites of Spring,
Joey Negro,
Faust,
Patti Smith,
Television Personalities,
Donny Hathaway,
Lakeside,
Maurizio,
Moebius,
Kurtis Blow,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Jeff Lynne,
Bobby Byrd,
The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals.
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.