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 Denmark and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Spokane.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Tomorrow 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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James White and The Blacks,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Surgeon,
Popol Vuh,
Roy Ayers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Human League,
Susan Cadogan,
Albert Ayler,
Smog,
The Angels of Light,
Q and Not U,
The Blackbyrds,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Boz Scaggs,
Talk Talk,
FM Einheit,
Absolute Body Control,
Blancmange,
Drexciya,
Monolake,
Ituana,
Alphaville,
Underground Resistance,
Nick Fraelich,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Graham Central Station,
Model 500,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Yusef Lateef,
June of 44,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Colin Newman,
T. Rex,
The Buckinghams,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Funkadelic,
Roger Hodgson,
Dennis Brown,
Rites of Spring,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Crispian St. Peters,
Toni Rubio,
Massinfluence,
Mo-Dettes,
Inner City,
Negative Approach,
the Swans,
the Soft Cell,
Rod Modell,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Doobie Brothers,
Tropical Tobacco,
Grauzone,
Kas Product,
Stockholm Monsters,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.