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 Micronesia and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Cybotron to the disco 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 The Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Basic Channel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Wolf Eyes,
Crime,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Negative Approach,
One Last Wish,
The Divine Comedy,
the Fania All-Stars,
Khruangbin,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
the Bar-Kays,
Roy Ayers,
Essential Logic,
the Human League,
Morten Harket,
The Cramps,
A Certain Ratio,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Marcia Griffiths,
Unrelated Segments,
T.S.O.L.,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ultimate Spinach,
Supertramp,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Circle Jerks,
Boz Scaggs,
Franke,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Jesper Dahlback,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
8 Eyed Spy,
Duran Duran,
Soft Cell,
Girls At Our Best!,
Leonard Cohen,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Index,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Last Poets,
The Move,
Peter and Kerry,
Gang Green,
The Buckinghams,
Tears for Fears,
Rotary Connection,
Erykah Badu,
Amazonics,
Zero Boys,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Accadde A,
Pierre Henry,
The Victims,
Anthony Braxton,
U.S. Maple,
Interpol,
Gang Gang Dance,
Los Fastidios,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.