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 Jamaica and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 808 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suburban Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
FM Einheit,
The Saints,
DJ Sneak,
The Sonics,
Fela Kuti,
John Foxx,
The Gap Band,
Goldenarms,
Supertramp,
Lucky Dragons,
Dawn Penn,
Davy DMX,
Peter & Gordon,
The Beau Brummels,
The Doors,
The Remains,
Depeche Mode,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Swans,
David Axelrod,
Visage,
Tommy Roe,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Graham Central Station,
Half Japanese,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Marine Girls,
Albert Ayler,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Danielle Patucci,
Schoolly D,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Kurtis Blow,
Pere Ubu,
Todd Terry,
DJ Style,
Darondo,
The Cramps,
Soft Machine,
Blossom Toes,
Radiohead,
Barry Ungar,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Donald Byrd,
Soft Cell,
In Retrospect,
The Vogues,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
AZ,
Q and Not U,
Maurizio,
the Soft Cell,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Basic Channel,
Peter and Kerry,
Audionom,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.