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 Guinea-Bissau and from Houston.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 John Coltrane to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Kas Product. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
Sam Rivers,
New Order,
The J.B.'s,
Circle Jerks,
Pylon,
The Leaves,
John Holt,
Kayak,
Siglo XX,
Suicide,
John Coltrane,
Dead Boys,
Severed Heads,
Royal Trux,
Mary Jane Girls,
Robert Wyatt,
The Tremeloes,
Trumans Water,
The Happenings,
Model 500,
Franke,
The Detroit Cobras,
Stiv Bators,
The Pretty Things,
Alice Coltrane,
Bobby Sherman,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Crispy Ambulance,
Danielle Patucci,
Bill Near,
Flipper,
Bobby Womack,
Section 25,
Von Mondo,
Groovy Waters,
Monolake,
Eurythmics,
Marvin Gaye,
Tommy Roe,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ronnie Foster,
Godley & Creme,
Andrew Hill,
Juan Atkins,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Walker Brothers,
DJ Style,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Curtis Mayfield,
Roxy Music,
The Evens,
Jandek,
Ultravox,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Arcadia,
Mission of Burma,
The Vogues,
Yellowson,
Anakelly,
Rekid,
Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson.
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.