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 Japan and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bobby Byrd,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rosa Yemen,
Bush Tetras,
Juan Atkins,
The Remains,
Bang On A Can,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Gories,
Piero Umiliani,
Quando Quango,
Albert Ayler,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Al Stewart,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Cure,
X-102,
Johnny Osbourne,
In Retrospect,
The Cramps,
FM Einheit,
Blossom Toes,
Nik Kershaw,
Vainqueur,
Easy Going,
Matthew Bourne,
Niagra,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Skriet,
Henry Cow,
Rod Modell,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Slick Rick,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Desert Stars,
Supertramp,
Todd Rundgren,
PIL,
Ice-T,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
June of 44,
The Shadows of Knight,
New Order,
James White and The Blacks,
Yusef Lateef,
Hasil Adkins,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lungfish,
Davy DMX,
Rekid,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Knickerbockers,
Dual Sessions,
Iggy Pop,
Marshall Jefferson,
Warsaw,
Steve Hackett,
Wings,
The Barracudas,
The Offenders,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.