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 Suriname and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 Cal Tjader to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-102,
Albert Ayler,
Max Romeo,
Urselle,
DJ Sneak,
Nik Kershaw,
Unwound,
Man Parrish,
Dawn Penn,
Cameo,
Sight & Sound,
The Divine Comedy,
Amazonics,
John Cale,
La Düsseldorf,
Bobby Byrd,
Swans,
Yusef Lateef,
Con Funk Shun,
Swell Maps,
June Days,
the Fania All-Stars,
Accadde A,
Curtis Mayfield,
Kayak,
Liliput,
the Germs,
The Smiths,
The Doors,
Colin Newman,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Joe Smooth,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
R.M.O.,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lungfish,
Arab on Radar,
Stetsasonic,
Eurythmics,
Banda Bassotti,
Ice-T,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gabor Szabo,
The Techniques,
Eli Mardock,
Wings,
The Fortunes,
Grauzone,
The Cure,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
China Crisis,
Morten Harket,
F. McDonald,
The Dave Clark Five,
Easy Going,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scrapy,
Mark Hollis,
Audionom,
Siglo XX,
Camouflage,
Wasted Youth,
Chrome,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.