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 Poland and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Toronto.
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 harpsichord 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 The United States of America to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Marine Girls. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Evens record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
The Index,
The Searchers,
The Smiths,
The Last Poets,
Rotary Connection,
Wolf Eyes,
Suicide,
Connie Case,
The Sonics,
Little Man,
Scrapy,
Echospace,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pantaleimon,
The Sisters of Mercy,
48th St. Collective,
The Vogues,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Gories,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sparks,
Crooked Eye,
Supertramp,
Amon Düül II,
Todd Terry,
The Human League,
Depeche Mode,
Public Enemy,
Pantytec,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pussy Galore,
The Offenders,
Terrestrial Tones,
Charles Mingus,
Peter and Kerry,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Pharoah Sanders,
Chris Corsano,
Von Mondo,
Eve St. Jones,
The Shadows of Knight,
Brand Nubian,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Graham Central Station,
The Dave Clark Five,
Vainqueur,
Stetsasonic,
Magazine,
Gang Green,
Massinfluence,
Man Eating Sloth,
Yazoo,
MDC,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Wake,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Tommy Roe,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.