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 Guyana and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Music Machine to the grime 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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All EPMD tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rod Modell,
Tom Boy,
Dawn Penn,
Dennis Brown,
The Durutti Column,
John Cale,
the Slits,
Funky Four + One,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Public Image Ltd.,
Average White Band,
Grandmaster Flash,
Babytalk,
The Human League,
Mr. Review,
the Germs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Fatback Band,
Liliput,
Ultra Naté,
Sandy B,
Minor Threat,
The Fortunes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Monochrome Set,
The Slackers,
Kaleidoscope,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Iggy Pop,
Amon Düül II,
Bizarre Inc.,
Unwound,
L. Decosne,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Saints,
The Blues Magoos,
Circle Jerks,
Anakelly,
Albert Ayler,
Nirvana,
The Blackbyrds,
June of 44,
Sun Ra,
The Barracudas,
Minnie Riperton,
Skaos,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Cure,
10cc,
Kas Product,
Grey Daturas,
Bootsy Collins,
Lindisfarne,
Y Pants,
Wally Richardson,
The Gun Club,
Desert Stars,
The United States of America,
The Leaves,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.