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 Kiribati and from Sao Paulo.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Ronan to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Circle Jerks. All the underground hits.
All The Cowsills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlback record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Max Romeo,
Ultra Naté,
The Sound,
Sarah Menescal,
Outsiders,
The Index,
Drexciya,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Skaos,
Tom Boy,
The Busters,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Brick,
Marshall Jefferson,
Franke,
The J.B.'s,
Funkadelic,
David Bowie,
Sight & Sound,
Harry Pussy,
Bush Tetras,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
David Axelrod,
Severed Heads,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Lindisfarne,
Skriet,
PIL,
Soft Cell,
Rhythm & Sound,
Scion,
Ken Boothe,
Camberwell Now,
Faust,
Deepchord,
Symarip,
Grauzone,
Trumans Water,
Soulsonic Force,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mission of Burma,
Mark Hollis,
Isaac Hayes,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Joensuu 1685,
Sandy B,
Yaz,
Q and Not U,
Man Parrish,
The Five Americans,
Barbara Tucker,
Godley & Creme,
Rufus Thomas,
The Dead C,
Jacob Miller,
Ornette Coleman,
Dorothy Ashby,
Janne Schatter,
the Association,
Rekid,
Sex Pistols,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Neu!,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.