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 Peru and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Detroit Cobras to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Scientists. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tim Buckley,
Blancmange,
H. Thieme,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Piero Umiliani,
Banda Bassotti,
Reuben Wilson,
Man Eating Sloth,
Robert Wyatt,
Unrelated Segments,
Ronan,
Fatback Band,
The Five Americans,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ornette Coleman,
Grey Daturas,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Aural Exciters,
cv313,
The Smiths,
The Fugs,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Crash Course in Science,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Barbara Tucker,
The Modern Lovers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
PIL,
The Seeds,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Wake,
Laurel Aitken,
Lungfish,
Stereo Dub,
ABC,
Eddi Front,
Brass Construction,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Throbbing Gristle,
FM Einheit,
The Misunderstood,
Janne Schatter,
Underground Resistance,
Charles Mingus,
Derrick Morgan,
The New Christs,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Avey Tare,
Letta Mbulu,
MC5,
Kenny Larkin,
Grauzone,
Dawn Penn,
Agent Orange,
Interpol,
The Smoke,
Rhythm & Sound,
Idris Muhammad,
Brick,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.