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 Tajikistan and from Milan.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 synthesizer 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 Scratch Acid to the punk 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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Colin Newman 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oneida record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Whodini,
Von Mondo,
The Moody Blues,
The Birthday Party,
Jawbox,
Sound Behaviour,
Neu!,
Slave,
Wolf Eyes,
Eli Mardock,
Infiniti,
Angry Samoans,
David McCallum,
Pharoah Sanders,
Cal Tjader,
Yazoo,
Con Funk Shun,
Derrick May,
Mars,
The Young Rascals,
Man Parrish,
Drexciya,
Lou Reed,
Rod Modell,
Donny Hathaway,
Gastr Del Sol,
Electric Prunes,
Dual Sessions,
Scratch Acid,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ohio Players,
Theoretical Girls,
The Star Department,
Chris & Cosey,
Yusef Lateef,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Grass Roots,
The Remains,
Section 25,
The United States of America,
The Monks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Traffic Nightmare,
Tears for Fears,
Quadrant,
a-ha,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ice-T,
Adolescents,
Rakim,
Funkadelic,
Kaleidoscope,
Crooked Eye,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Aswad,
Cluster,
The Wake,
Donald Byrd,
Ronan,
Animal Collective,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.