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 Honduras and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 David Bowie 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 Deadbeat to the punk 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Banda Bassotti,
The Walker Brothers,
Scientists,
ABC,
Lou Reed,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Intrusion,
Kurtis Blow,
The Index,
Robert Hood,
Glambeats Corp.,
Piero Umiliani,
Buzzcocks,
Mary Jane Girls,
Nick Fraelich,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Black Flag,
Gang of Four,
Ten City,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Popol Vuh,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Neon Judgement,
Reuben Wilson,
These Immortal Souls,
Malaria!,
Rosa Yemen,
Urselle,
Charles Mingus,
the Swans,
The Litter,
Moss Icon,
Ralphi Rosario,
Liliput,
Judy Mowatt,
Wire,
Bluetip,
Deepchord,
The Gun Club,
The Barracudas,
X-Ray Spex,
Khruangbin,
The Music Machine,
Soul II Soul,
Boz Scaggs,
Rakim,
Andrew Hill,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Dead Boys,
Second Layer,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Avey Tare,
Sonic Youth,
Cymande,
Anakelly,
Robert Wyatt,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Aural Exciters,
Slick Rick,
Pole,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Glenn Branca,
Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson.
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.