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 Paraguay and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Icehouse to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Susan Cadogan. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Kas Product,
Graham Central Station,
Gang of Four,
Spoonie Gee,
Traffic Nightmare,
Loose Ends,
The Cramps,
The Barracudas,
Scientists,
Nico,
Hashim,
The Electric Prunes,
Alice Coltrane,
Yazoo,
The Vogues,
Von Mondo,
The Move,
Parry Music,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lightning Bolt,
Liliput,
Khruangbin,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Toni Rubio,
Q and Not U,
Bill Wells,
Charles Mingus,
Desert Stars,
The Smiths,
The Modern Lovers,
Siglo XX,
Adolescents,
Junior Murvin,
Clear Light,
Patti Smith,
Chris Corsano,
Neu!,
Sexual Harrassment,
Chris & Cosey,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sex Pistols,
Robert Görl,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pylon,
Unrelated Segments,
The Blues Magoos,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Durutti Column,
B.T. Express,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bang On A Can,
The Stooges,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
ABBA,
Outsiders,
New Order,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.