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 Guinea and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Fat Boys to the funk 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 Chrome. All the underground hits.
All Kurtis Blow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Tommy Roe,
Ice-T,
Hasil Adkins,
Radiopuhelimet,
Panda Bear,
The Smoke,
The Pretty Things,
Rosa Yemen,
The Gladiators,
Barrington Levy,
Arcadia,
Absolute Body Control,
Scott Walker,
X-Ray Spex,
Yaz,
Sugar Minott,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Slave,
ABBA,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Audionom,
Ronnie Foster,
David Axelrod,
The Dead C,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ultra Naté,
The Move,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Zeros,
Robert Görl,
The Detroit Cobras,
Excepter,
Neu!,
The Barracudas,
Grey Daturas,
Moebius,
Hoover,
The Techniques,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bob Dylan,
The Slits,
Kaleidoscope,
Dave Gahan,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Skaos,
Moby Grape,
Darondo,
Ponytail,
H. Thieme,
F. McDonald,
Traffic Nightmare,
Minny Pops,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Flamin' Groovies,
Malaria!,
T.S.O.L.,
Soul II Soul,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.