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 Azerbaijan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Roger Hodgson to the crunk 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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Zero Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters 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 a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Buckinghams record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drive Like Jehu,
MC5,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Dave Gahan,
Lee Hazlewood,
Swans,
This Heat,
Lou Reed,
Simply Red,
Kaleidoscope,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
These Immortal Souls,
The Skatalites,
Alton Ellis,
June of 44,
Brass Construction,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Cameo,
Young Marble Giants,
The Velvet Underground,
Eric B and Rakim,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Fall,
Erykah Badu,
EPMD,
Jeff Mills,
Yellowson,
The Techniques,
Spandau Ballet,
Cheater Slicks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Desert Stars,
Scrapy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Rotary Connection,
The Moody Blues,
Ituana,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Shoche,
Surgeon,
The Durutti Column,
Wolf Eyes,
Quadrant,
Newcleus,
Intrusion,
Panda Bear,
Andrew Hill,
Icehouse,
The J.B.'s,
Grauzone,
Sandy B,
Terrestrial Tones,
Slick Rick,
The United States of America,
Bush Tetras,
New Order,
Brothers Johnson,
Brand Nubian,
Sällskapet,
Livin' Joy,
Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive.
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.