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 Malta and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Henry Cow to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Danielle Patucci tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Excepter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
Bluetip,
Jeff Lynne,
Unwound,
Sällskapet,
Black Bananas,
The Skatalites,
The American Breed,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Arab on Radar,
Average White Band,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Erykah Badu,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Siglo XX,
Swell Maps,
The Real Kids,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Agitation Free,
Scion,
The Dave Clark Five,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Cluster,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
ABC,
Al Stewart,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mandrill,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Doors,
Tommy Roe,
Harry Pussy,
DJ Style,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bobby Byrd,
Terry Callier,
Newcleus,
Andrew Hill,
Lalo Schifrin,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lee Hazlewood,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Warsaw,
Bob Dylan,
Kevin Saunderson,
Anakelly,
Nico,
MDC,
KRS-One,
Visage,
FM Einheit,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ultra Naté,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Red Krayola,
Slave,
Anthony Braxton,
Public Enemy,
Sandy B,
Q and Not U,
Spoonie Gee,
The Grass Roots,
Vladislav Delay,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.