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 Ukraine and from Tokyo.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Houston.
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 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 Lou Reed 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 Piero Umiliani to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Underground Resistance. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Evens,
Sixth Finger,
Warren Ellis,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Reuben Wilson,
the Bar-Kays,
Bush Tetras,
Desert Stars,
Charles Mingus,
Pagans,
a-ha,
Jacob Miller,
Simply Red,
The Velvet Underground,
Swell Maps,
Roxy Music,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Hot Snakes,
Second Layer,
John Coltrane,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Symarip,
Oneida,
The Slackers,
The New Christs,
Rekid,
Rotary Connection,
Echospace,
ABC,
Ultravox,
Graham Central Station,
The Standells,
These Immortal Souls,
Trumans Water,
Nirvana,
Kaleidoscope,
The Monochrome Set,
Pantaleimon,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
KRS-One,
Deadbeat,
Steve Hackett,
Lyres,
Television Personalities,
Ronnie Foster,
Fad Gadget,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Angels of Light,
The Dirtbombs,
Kayak,
cv313,
Howard Jones,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sonic Youth,
Royal Trux,
Newcleus,
Henry Cow,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.