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 Slovakia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Modern Lovers to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All Wings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gary Puckett & The Union Gap record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erykah Badu,
Livin' Joy,
Gang of Four,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Urselle,
Bill Near,
Swell Maps,
Fela Kuti,
One Last Wish,
Crash Course in Science,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gong,
The Happenings,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Eric Copeland,
The Dave Clark Five,
Davy DMX,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Motions,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Spandau Ballet,
Franke,
The Wake,
X-101,
Country Teasers,
The Standells,
Skaos,
U.S. Maple,
Audionom,
DNA,
Crime,
Das Ding,
Qualms,
Blancmange,
Dorothy Ashby,
Malaria!,
The American Breed,
Nation of Ulysses,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Barracudas,
Desert Stars,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Blues Magoos,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Black Bananas,
DJ Style,
Inner City,
Morten Harket,
Crispy Ambulance,
Second Layer,
Public Enemy,
Arcadia,
Icehouse,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jesper Dahlback,
Shuggie Otis,
Mr. Review,
Andrew Hill,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Vainqueur,
Freddie Wadling,
Albert Ayler,
Angry Samoans,
Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis.
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.