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 Japan and from Columbus.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Winnipeg.
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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the dance 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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eurythmics,
Bronski Beat,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Dead Boys,
Grey Daturas,
Severed Heads,
Lalann,
Sam Rivers,
Pylon,
Cal Tjader,
Rapeman,
Don Cherry,
Bootsy Collins,
Ponytail,
Eve St. Jones,
The Black Dice,
Barrington Levy,
Rhythm & Sound,
Thee Headcoats,
Bad Manners,
ABBA,
Gastr Del Sol,
Silicon Teens,
The United States of America,
The Toasters,
Robert Görl,
Smog,
Circle Jerks,
Scott Walker,
Saccharine Trust,
Mission of Burma,
the Normal,
the Association,
Monolake,
Bluetip,
Eric Dolphy,
Buzzcocks,
The Misunderstood,
Crispian St. Peters,
Organ,
Althea and Donna,
The Kinks,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Dead C,
Vainqueur,
Khruangbin,
Harry Pussy,
Sonic Youth,
Quadrant,
Sonny Sharrock,
Terrestrial Tones,
Black Pus,
UT,
Graham Central Station,
Godley & Creme,
The Detroit Cobras,
Stiv Bators,
Gerry Rafferty,
Public Enemy,
Nick Fraelich,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bizarre Inc.,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.