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 Iraq and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Winnipeg.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Bobby Byrd to the dance 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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dave Clark Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pharoah Sanders,
Heaven 17,
Sister Nancy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
B.T. Express,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Fatback Band,
Albert Ayler,
New Order,
Barbara Tucker,
Eve St. Jones,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Dorothy Ashby,
Freddie Wadling,
The Smiths,
Audionom,
The Cure,
Tubeway Army,
Lyres,
Roy Ayers,
Man Parrish,
Eurythmics,
John Coltrane,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rotary Connection,
Tomorrow,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Beau Brummels,
Minnie Riperton,
Moss Icon,
Amon Düül II,
the Soft Cell,
Scientists,
Lindisfarne,
Thompson Twins,
The Victims,
Lightning Bolt,
Soulsonic Force,
The Slackers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
8 Eyed Spy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Aaron Thompson,
Theoretical Girls,
Soft Cell,
Godley & Creme,
Sound Behaviour,
Kurtis Blow,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Procol Harum,
Barry Ungar,
Harry Pussy,
Cecil Taylor,
Outsiders,
Joe Smooth,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Franke,
DJ Sneak,
Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja.
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.