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 South Africa and from London.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 oboe 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 Fatback Band to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All Swell Maps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skriet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Rapeman,
the Normal,
Quantec,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sandy B,
Marmalade,
Flamin' Groovies,
The American Breed,
Quadrant,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Inner City,
Todd Rundgren,
Amazonics,
The Neon Judgement,
The Invisible,
Pere Ubu,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Shoche,
Curtis Mayfield,
These Immortal Souls,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Alice Coltrane,
Tomorrow,
Erasure,
The Velvet Underground,
Derrick Morgan,
Lou Reed,
E-Dancer,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ronnie Foster,
The Dirtbombs,
Josef K,
Grandmaster Flash,
Section 25,
Bill Wells,
Lyres,
The Sonics,
Lee Hazlewood,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Flipper,
Monolake,
The Index,
Suicide,
Judy Mowatt,
Mary Jane Girls,
Stetsasonic,
Livin' Joy,
The Beau Brummels,
kango's stein massive,
One Last Wish,
Hasil Adkins,
Cameo,
Robert Hood,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Birthday Party,
Matthew Bourne,
Mark Hollis,
Black Sheep,
Gabor Szabo,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.