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 Mozambique and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Hoover to the electroclash 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 Zapp. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gastr Del Sol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Dual Sessions,
The Five Americans,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Public Image Ltd.,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Surgeon,
Public Enemy,
Heaven 17,
Desert Stars,
Echospace,
The Detroit Cobras,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Gabor Szabo,
Darondo,
Lungfish,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Aaron Thompson,
Ohio Players,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Rod Modell,
Ronnie Foster,
Junior Murvin,
Symarip,
Ice-T,
Henry Cow,
The Saints,
June Days,
Minutemen,
The Monks,
Sister Nancy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Slave,
Con Funk Shun,
CMW,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Freddie Wadling,
Fat Boys,
B.T. Express,
Excepter,
Camberwell Now,
The Grass Roots,
U.S. Maple,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kayak,
Big Daddy Kane,
June of 44,
Little Man,
Dark Day,
Icehouse,
Procol Harum,
R.M.O.,
Joe Finger,
Morten Harket,
Eric Dolphy,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bob Dylan,
John Cale,
Eric Copeland,
The Electric Prunes,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone.
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.