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 Sri Lanka and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 arpeggiator 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 Toni Rubio to the dance 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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grey Daturas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
David Axelrod,
Sonny Sharrock,
X-101,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Tommy Roe,
Chris Corsano,
Negative Approach,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gang Green,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Public Enemy,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Gap Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lightning Bolt,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Loose Ends,
Interpol,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Suicide,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Swell Maps,
Black Moon,
Agitation Free,
Alphaville,
The Cowsills,
Gichy Dan,
Letta Mbulu,
Masters at Work,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Amazonics,
Blake Baxter,
Sam Rivers,
the Normal,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Martian,
Average White Band,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rotary Connection,
Lower 48,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Birthday Party,
The Searchers,
Lakeside,
Idris Muhammad,
The J.B.'s,
Todd Terry,
Erasure,
Can,
Skriet,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Red Krayola,
The Raincoats,
John Holt,
Quantec,
Fela Kuti,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Erykah Badu,
Spandau Ballet,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.