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 New Zealand and from Tokyo.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Glambeats Corp. to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantaleimon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
New York Dolls,
Barry Ungar,
Ken Boothe,
Lou Reed,
John Lydon,
Slick Rick,
Eric Copeland,
Lungfish,
Kaleidoscope,
Symarip,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Bar-Kays,
Skaos,
Erykah Badu,
John Holt,
Animal Collective,
Desert Stars,
Nico,
Funky Four + One,
the Sonics,
Sixth Finger,
Q and Not U,
Alice Coltrane,
Main Source,
the Swans,
Connie Case,
The Fuzztones,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Normal,
Model 500,
the Fania All-Stars,
Isaac Hayes,
Wally Richardson,
Dennis Brown,
The J.B.'s,
Fugazi,
Lakeside,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rufus Thomas,
Hardrive,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Unrelated Segments,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Fatback Band,
Agent Orange,
China Crisis,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
T. Rex,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Nils Olav,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Angels of Light,
Moss Icon,
DJ Sneak,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Public Enemy,
Mr. Review,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ornette Coleman,
The Dead C,
Babytalk,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.