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 Netherlands and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam to the jazz 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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Iggy Pop 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
DJ Style,
Susan Cadogan,
Lee Hazlewood,
Neu!,
The Raincoats,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Soul II Soul,
Cecil Taylor,
Eurythmics,
Loose Ends,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pantaleimon,
Bobby Sherman,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The New Christs,
Joy Division,
Rites of Spring,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Slits,
Public Image Ltd.,
Rhythm & Sound,
Babytalk,
Jeff Lynne,
Curtis Mayfield,
JFA,
Parry Music,
Mad Mike,
Joyce Sims,
AZ,
Vladislav Delay,
Inner City,
The Buckinghams,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Darondo,
Swans,
Saccharine Trust,
Zero Boys,
Quando Quango,
Intrusion,
EPMD,
The Dead C,
Joey Negro,
Chrome,
Henry Cow,
Sällskapet,
Maurizio,
Lightning Bolt,
Qualms,
Pet Shop Boys,
Soul Sonic Force,
Flamin' Groovies,
Crash Course in Science,
Ultravox,
The Vogues,
Duran Duran,
the Fania All-Stars,
Glenn Branca,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.