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 Georgia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Bizarre Inc. to the jazz 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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rod Modell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Janne Schatter,
The Beau Brummels,
Second Layer,
D'Angelo,
EPMD,
Gil Scott Heron,
48th St. Collective,
The Real Kids,
Country Teasers,
Delta 5,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Nick Fraelich,
Crispian St. Peters,
Black Flag,
Scratch Acid,
Eric Copeland,
X-101,
John Lydon,
Ice-T,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Toasters,
Ronan,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Dennis Brown,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Fugs,
The Gun Club,
The Barracudas,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Eric Dolphy,
Can,
Soft Cell,
Swans,
The Litter,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bauhaus,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Judy Mowatt,
Minny Pops,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Byron Stingily,
the Sonics,
Rakim,
Lungfish,
Quantec,
Black Moon,
Leonard Cohen,
The Wake,
Skarface,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Von Mondo,
The American Breed,
Dorothy Ashby,
Frankie Knuckles,
Faraquet,
Alison Limerick,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Agent Orange,
Symarip,
Soft Machine,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.