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 Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Scott Walker to the jazz 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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Basic Channel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slackers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Main Source,
Tomorrow,
Intrusion,
Skriet,
Crime,
Yaz,
Subhumans,
The Raincoats,
Sex Pistols,
Nas,
Jeru the Damaja,
Juan Atkins,
The Evens,
Theoretical Girls,
Basic Channel,
Soulsonic Force,
These Immortal Souls,
This Heat,
The Young Rascals,
Inner City,
K-Klass,
The Searchers,
The Barracudas,
Make Up,
Crash Course in Science,
Heaven 17,
T.S.O.L.,
The Move,
the Soft Cell,
The Cramps,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Fuzztones,
Chris Corsano,
Radiopuhelimet,
Anakelly,
Crispy Ambulance,
Nils Olav,
Hashim,
Robert Hood,
Danielle Patucci,
Pere Ubu,
Crooked Eye,
Davy DMX,
Ronan,
Gang Starr,
Eric B and Rakim,
Robert Wyatt,
Moss Icon,
Con Funk Shun,
Lower 48,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Interpol,
One Last Wish,
the Fania All-Stars,
Alice Coltrane,
Mantronix,
New Age Steppers,
Minnie Riperton,
Zero Boys,
Technova,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Adolescents,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.