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 Morocco and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 clarinet 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 Selector Dub Narcotic 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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Banda Bassotti,
Procol Harum,
the Fania All-Stars,
Liliput,
Swell Maps,
Masters at Work,
Oblivians,
Ponytail,
Au Pairs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Isaac Hayes,
Sex Pistols,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Ralphi Rosario,
Suicide,
Deakin,
Mars,
Vladislav Delay,
Joe Smooth,
The Buckinghams,
Charles Mingus,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Dead C,
The Toasters,
10cc,
James White and The Blacks,
Quantec,
Darondo,
Tim Buckley,
Aswad,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
DJ Style,
Model 500,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
the Human League,
Joy Division,
Popol Vuh,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Motorama,
Carl Craig,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sun Ra,
Black Sheep,
48th St. Collective,
EPMD,
Pylon,
Al Stewart,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Man Parrish,
The Slits,
Subhumans,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Tears for Fears,
Soulsonic Force,
Rekid,
The Cowsills,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Los Fastidios,
Mark Hollis,
Yazoo,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.