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 Denmark and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Masters at Work to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Jesper Dahlbäck. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Chocolate Watch Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
Swell Maps,
The Walker Brothers,
Severed Heads,
cv313,
Wally Richardson,
Liliput,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gang Gang Dance,
Gang Starr,
X-102,
Sandy B,
Pagans,
Moby Grape,
Graham Central Station,
Stetsasonic,
the Fania All-Stars,
China Crisis,
Scott Walker,
Cymande,
Ten City,
Animal Collective,
Sällskapet,
Eve St. Jones,
Arthur Verocai,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Angry Samoans,
The Blues Magoos,
Agitation Free,
Terry Callier,
Model 500,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
8 Eyed Spy,
Procol Harum,
Neil Young,
Minutemen,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Con Funk Shun,
Mr. Review,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Sonics,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Section 25,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
the Swans,
Black Pus,
The Divine Comedy,
Spoonie Gee,
Saccharine Trust,
Niagra,
Aaron Thompson,
Susan Cadogan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bob Dylan,
Grey Daturas,
Patti Smith,
Godley & Creme,
Davy DMX,
Adolescents,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.