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 Kosovo and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Animal Collective to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Maurizio. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
Derrick Morgan,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Standells,
Crispian St. Peters,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Hashim,
Gichy Dan,
Echospace,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Toasters,
Dawn Penn,
Terrestrial Tones,
Blake Baxter,
Hot Snakes,
Amazonics,
Robert Wyatt,
Scott Walker,
The Saints,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lindisfarne,
Josef K,
Ludus,
June of 44,
F. McDonald,
The Kinks,
Can,
Deakin,
Fugazi,
Sun City Girls,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Blackbyrds,
Bill Near,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Black Moon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Icehouse,
E-Dancer,
Roxette,
Television,
the Bar-Kays,
New Age Steppers,
Jeff Mills,
Alison Limerick,
Marcia Griffiths,
Minor Threat,
Rekid,
Deadbeat,
Nas,
Mark Hollis,
Peter & Gordon,
Dual Sessions,
Mad Mike,
Drexciya,
Royal Trux,
Bang On A Can,
Smog,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Throbbing Gristle,
Au Pairs,
Dead Boys,
Black Flag,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.