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 Cameroon and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Rod Modell to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All Justin Hinds & The Dominoes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can 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 spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
The Fall,
Scrapy,
Saccharine Trust,
The Dirtbombs,
Michelle Simonal,
Don Cherry,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jeff Mills,
Quadrant,
Duran Duran,
Idris Muhammad,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Rekid,
Harry Pussy,
Pagans,
The Leaves,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Section 25,
Mantronix,
Stiv Bators,
Procol Harum,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Robert Wyatt,
Cybotron,
Bush Tetras,
Echospace,
Severed Heads,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Tropical Tobacco,
Boredoms,
Piero Umiliani,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Gun Club,
Al Stewart,
Smog,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sound Behaviour,
Popol Vuh,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Moss Icon,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Model 500,
Ossler,
Dennis Brown,
Crash Course in Science,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Delon & Dalcan,
Slave,
Flash Fearless,
New York Dolls,
The Pretty Things,
Reagan Youth,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Porter Ricks,
Fluxion,
The Skatalites,
48th St. Collective,
Anthony Braxton,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.