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 Dominican Republic and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Holger Czukay 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 Boz Scaggs to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Q and Not U tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxette record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vladislav Delay,
E-Dancer,
Jeru the Damaja,
John Coltrane,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Moody Blues,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Searchers,
Lou Reed,
The Mojo Men,
Freddie Wadling,
Oneida,
Moebius,
Tres Demented,
The Fire Engines,
Black Pus,
Jimmy McGriff,
Eli Mardock,
Jandek,
X-101,
R.M.O.,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sister Nancy,
Morten Harket,
Minny Pops,
The Doobie Brothers,
Leonard Cohen,
Gang Starr,
Sex Pistols,
The Martian,
Boz Scaggs,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Fortunes,
Stetsasonic,
Connie Case,
The Smiths,
Saccharine Trust,
The Cramps,
Jacques Brel,
Sugar Minott,
Rod Modell,
Agitation Free,
Livin' Joy,
Essential Logic,
ABC,
Urselle,
The Angels of Light,
Suicide,
Arthur Verocai,
Curtis Mayfield,
Basic Channel,
The Pretty Things,
Wolf Eyes,
Ornette Coleman,
The United States of America,
Gabor Szabo,
Gang Green,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.