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 Kuwait and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Flamin' Groovies to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fuzztones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vainqueur record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
Section 25,
H. Thieme,
Duran Duran,
The American Breed,
Kayak,
The Smoke,
Black Bananas,
the Slits,
Rotary Connection,
Nico,
Silicon Teens,
Excepter,
Metal Thangz,
Althea and Donna,
The Tremeloes,
Shuggie Otis,
Flash Fearless,
Anakelly,
The Gladiators,
Outsiders,
Public Image Ltd.,
Interpol,
The Divine Comedy,
Khruangbin,
Piero Umiliani,
Harry Pussy,
Drive Like Jehu,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Slackers,
Eli Mardock,
The Gories,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Wake,
The Monks,
Gong,
cv313,
Hasil Adkins,
The Flesh Eaters,
Junior Murvin,
Johnny Osbourne,
Derrick May,
Lee Hazlewood,
Roy Ayers,
The Last Poets,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Faust,
Hashim,
Joy Division,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rufus Thomas,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ten City,
Jacques Brel,
Radio Birdman,
John Foxx,
Brand Nubian,
Ice-T,
Lalann,
Letta Mbulu,
Joe Smooth,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.