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 Papua New Guinea and from Lille.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Yazoo to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Procol Harum. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar 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 rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
The Cramps,
Suicide,
The Blues Magoos,
The Wake,
Royal Trux,
Derrick May,
Blake Baxter,
Idris Muhammad,
K-Klass,
Shuggie Otis,
Ohio Players,
Gang Gang Dance,
Andrew Hill,
Rhythm & Sound,
Ludus,
The Raincoats,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Mantronix,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Count Five,
Goldenarms,
Marine Girls,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Franke,
Tropical Tobacco,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Knickerbockers,
The Slackers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ronnie Foster,
Peter and Kerry,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Can,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Stockholm Monsters,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Groovy Waters,
LL Cool J,
Man Parrish,
Harry Pussy,
10cc,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Robert Hood,
Faust,
Byron Stingily,
Roxy Music,
Lalann,
Severed Heads,
Scientists,
The Modern Lovers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rites of Spring,
Eric Dolphy,
EPMD,
Lower 48,
Kayak,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column.
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.