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 South Africa and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Sandy B to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Warren Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ituana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
The Detroit Cobras,
Organ,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ultimate Spinach,
X-Ray Spex,
Nick Fraelich,
The Victims,
Reuben Wilson,
X-101,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Groovy Waters,
Dawn Penn,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Dead Boys,
Soul Sonic Force,
the Fania All-Stars,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Young Rascals,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Spoonie Gee,
Chris & Cosey,
Eli Mardock,
The Human League,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Letta Mbulu,
Lightning Bolt,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Outsiders,
Kurtis Blow,
Eric Dolphy,
The Wake,
New York Dolls,
Anthony Braxton,
Harry Pussy,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ituana,
The Remains,
Youth Brigade,
Pylon,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Brand Nubian,
Mission of Burma,
Marvin Gaye,
Pussy Galore,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Offenders,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Saccharine Trust,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
T. Rex,
Stockholm Monsters,
Barbara Tucker,
Motorama,
Bronski Beat,
In Retrospect,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Dave Gahan,
Buzzcocks,
Pagans,
Minnie Riperton,
Wolf Eyes,
The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party.
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.