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 Bhutan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Donald Fagen 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 Faust to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sarah Menescal. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar 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 güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
Swell Maps,
Radio Birdman,
Lalo Schifrin,
Cybotron,
Scratch Acid,
The Detroit Cobras,
Chris Corsano,
EPMD,
Soul II Soul,
Donald Byrd,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pantaleimon,
Monks,
The Residents,
the Fania All-Stars,
Clear Light,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pharoah Sanders,
E-Dancer,
Dawn Penn,
The Divine Comedy,
Ice-T,
Stereo Dub,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Stiv Bators,
The Vogues,
The Raincoats,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Albert Ayler,
Monolake,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
This Heat,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Los Fastidios,
The Litter,
The Kinks,
the Association,
Deakin,
KRS-One,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Black Bananas,
The Neon Judgement,
Pussy Galore,
Dark Day,
Juan Atkins,
Pagans,
The Happenings,
Harry Pussy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Thee Headcoats,
The Young Rascals,
Blossom Toes,
Alton Ellis,
Patti Smith,
John Holt,
Smog,
Ludus,
Sun City Girls,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.