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 Cameroon and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Rod Modell to the rock 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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Sheep,
Ken Boothe,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Agent Orange,
Saccharine Trust,
Excepter,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Visage,
Todd Terry,
Crispy Ambulance,
Radiopuhelimet,
Shoche,
Roxette,
David Axelrod,
Niagra,
Sugar Minott,
Barrington Levy,
Flamin' Groovies,
Desert Stars,
the Slits,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Babytalk,
In Retrospect,
The Zeros,
Anthony Braxton,
The Gun Club,
the Association,
Gabor Szabo,
Wolf Eyes,
Ronnie Foster,
Lindisfarne,
Junior Murvin,
Reuben Wilson,
The Black Dice,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bizarre Inc.,
Depeche Mode,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Knickerbockers,
Alphaville,
Rosa Yemen,
a-ha,
Pulsallama,
Ornette Coleman,
Technova,
Aloha Tigers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Man Eating Sloth,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Procol Harum,
Marvin Gaye,
The Invisible,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Buckinghams,
June of 44,
Oblivians,
Glambeats Corp.,
Popol Vuh,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Funky Four + One,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.