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 East Timor and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 güiro 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 Rakim to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Infiniti. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lizzy Mercier Descloux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Neon Judgement record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Royal Trux,
Severed Heads,
Tres Demented,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Sound,
The J.B.'s,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Cosmic Jokers,
James White and The Blacks,
Silicon Teens,
Saccharine Trust,
Index,
Niagra,
New Age Steppers,
Model 500,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Tropical Tobacco,
L. Decosne,
Country Teasers,
F. McDonald,
The Angels of Light,
Black Sheep,
Trumans Water,
Joensuu 1685,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Remains,
Ronnie Foster,
Lyres,
Wally Richardson,
Magma,
Alice Coltrane,
Section 25,
Kaleidoscope,
Cymande,
Pantaleimon,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Velvet Underground,
Subhumans,
Mars,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
48th St. Collective,
The Durutti Column,
The Buckinghams,
Con Funk Shun,
Derrick Morgan,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Nico,
Thee Headcoats,
MDC,
Procol Harum,
the Sonics,
John Cale,
Girls At Our Best!,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rotary Connection,
Masters at Work,
Monolake,
Todd Terry,
Outsiders,
Sunsets and Hearts,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.