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 Russia and from Cairo.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Skaos to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All Lucky Dragons tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Patti Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe 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?
The Neon Judgement,
Eddi Front,
Inner City,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gregory Isaacs,
Section 25,
K-Klass,
The Index,
Mr. Review,
Ohio Players,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Spoonie Gee,
Jeff Mills,
Hot Snakes,
Roger Hodgson,
Easy Going,
Nik Kershaw,
Stiv Bators,
Altered Images,
Pylon,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Iggy Pop,
the Soft Cell,
H. Thieme,
Pussy Galore,
Minnie Riperton,
Livin' Joy,
Bootsy Collins,
Hasil Adkins,
Connie Case,
Crooked Eye,
Davy DMX,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lou Christie,
Nils Olav,
Thee Headcoats,
The Flesh Eaters,
Scott Walker,
the Bar-Kays,
Traffic Nightmare,
Crispy Ambulance,
Carl Craig,
Bluetip,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Saccharine Trust,
The Real Kids,
Freddie Wadling,
Glenn Branca,
a-ha,
Jacques Brel,
These Immortal Souls,
Arcadia,
Matthew Halsall,
Cecil Taylor,
Eurythmics,
Desert Stars,
Cheater Slicks,
the Germs,
The Raincoats,
Crime,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.