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 Equatorial Guinea and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 Mumbai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 chamberlin 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 Flash Fearless to the grunge 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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Count Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Lungfish,
Nico,
The Pretty Things,
Japan,
Sällskapet,
Jeff Lynne,
The Slits,
The Slackers,
Section 25,
Parry Music,
Basic Channel,
John Coltrane,
Black Pus,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rekid,
The Victims,
The Kinks,
Warsaw,
Porter Ricks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Rosa Yemen,
Grandmaster Flash,
Charles Mingus,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bang On A Can,
Oneida,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Fire Engines,
Mars,
Alice Coltrane,
Cheater Slicks,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bob Dylan,
Sam Rivers,
Oblivians,
Black Flag,
Spoonie Gee,
Duran Duran,
Marine Girls,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Residents,
Judy Mowatt,
La Düsseldorf,
Lalann,
Urselle,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Schoolly D,
Yazoo,
Cecil Taylor,
Negative Approach,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Selecter,
Q and Not U,
David Axelrod,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lower 48,
The Smiths,
Frankie Knuckles,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mary Jane Girls,
Thee Headcoats,
Darondo,
Scratch Acid,
Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock.
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.