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 Djibouti and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 organ 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 Khruangbin to the funk 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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Black Pus,
Reuben Wilson,
Los Fastidios,
Avey Tare,
UT,
Metal Thangz,
Fear,
Deepchord,
Brick,
Mars,
Pylon,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ultra Naté,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
CMW,
Black Bananas,
Ultravox,
The Index,
Heaven 17,
The Gap Band,
Organ,
The Dirtbombs,
Pharoah Sanders,
Second Layer,
Funky Four + One,
Jandek,
Animal Collective,
Young Marble Giants,
Judy Mowatt,
The Busters,
Television Personalities,
Mission of Burma,
Harry Pussy,
Interpol,
Man Eating Sloth,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Fire Engines,
Whodini,
Marvin Gaye,
Subhumans,
The Invisible,
June Days,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Fuzztones,
The Martian,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Cure,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ken Boothe,
Lebanon Hanover,
Arthur Verocai,
Ultimate Spinach,
Fugazi,
The Toasters,
Massinfluence,
Laurel Aitken,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Anthony Braxton,
Man Parrish,
Roxette,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.