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 Azerbaijan and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 the Association to the electroclash 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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Coltrane 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe 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 Buckinghams record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sparks,
Marvin Gaye,
The Toasters,
Ken Boothe,
These Immortal Souls,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
World's Most,
Chris & Cosey,
U.S. Maple,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Man Parrish,
Robert Wyatt,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Invisible,
The Neon Judgement,
Smog,
Frankie Knuckles,
Jeff Mills,
One Last Wish,
Black Bananas,
The Vogues,
Chrome,
Model 500,
Nico,
Bronski Beat,
The Doobie Brothers,
Faust,
Alice Coltrane,
Joey Negro,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fluxion,
The Smoke,
John Lydon,
This Heat,
Neu!,
Talk Talk,
Funkadelic,
the Normal,
Royal Trux,
Little Man,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Stetsasonic,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Fuzztones,
Monolake,
Charles Mingus,
Agitation Free,
The Pretty Things,
Ultimate Spinach,
Warsaw,
The Residents,
the Sonics,
Amon Düül II,
Mark Hollis,
Roger Hodgson,
MC5,
Lungfish,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.