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 Samoa and from Tokyo.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Lungfish to the techno 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. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Ten City,
Harmonia,
Rapeman,
Metal Thangz,
Sexual Harrassment,
Y Pants,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Radio Birdman,
Soul II Soul,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gang Green,
Kenny Larkin,
The United States of America,
Suicide,
Talk Talk,
New York Dolls,
Yusef Lateef,
Charles Mingus,
Nas,
The Shadows of Knight,
Oneida,
DJ Sneak,
Marc Almond,
Sixth Finger,
Niagra,
Pylon,
Wally Richardson,
X-Ray Spex,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Fela Kuti,
Amon Düül II,
Icehouse,
Vladislav Delay,
Alphaville,
Can,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sex Pistols,
The Cure,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Soul Sonic Force,
Eve St. Jones,
The Happenings,
Make Up,
Al Stewart,
Blake Baxter,
Swans,
The Toasters,
The Doors,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Crash Course in Science,
Roy Ayers,
Robert Görl,
Gabor Szabo,
the Association,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Yaz,
The Monochrome Set, The Monochrome Set, The Monochrome Set, The Monochrome Set.
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.