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 Venezuela and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Hashim to the funk 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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Icehouse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Teasers,
The Kinks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Parry Music,
Eli Mardock,
Frankie Knuckles,
Hasil Adkins,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rod Modell,
U.S. Maple,
Roxy Music,
Harmonia,
Quantec,
Joe Finger,
Mars,
Q and Not U,
Dennis Brown,
Schoolly D,
Eric Dolphy,
Y Pants,
ABBA,
Scrapy,
La Düsseldorf,
The Blues Magoos,
Joe Smooth,
Peter and Kerry,
Darondo,
Monks,
Bobby Sherman,
Masters at Work,
Pet Shop Boys,
Dark Day,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Human League,
Fear,
New York Dolls,
Bobby Byrd,
These Immortal Souls,
Skaos,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sister Nancy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cecil Taylor,
Reagan Youth,
Nirvana,
DJ Sneak,
LL Cool J,
The Invisible,
Zapp,
Judy Mowatt,
Outsiders,
Girls At Our Best!,
Motorama,
Carl Craig,
Electric Prunes,
Rotary Connection,
Spandau Ballet,
Duran Duran,
Main Source, Main Source, Main Source, Main Source.
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.