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 Uganda and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 kango's stein massive to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All Connie Case tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ralphi Rosario record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Traffic Nightmare,
Mad Mike,
Deepchord,
Blake Baxter,
Jacques Brel,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Young Marble Giants,
The Gun Club,
Delta 5,
The Martian,
Iggy Pop,
Interpol,
Jeff Mills,
T.S.O.L.,
The Evens,
Pole,
Clear Light,
Parry Music,
Thompson Twins,
Warsaw,
Porter Ricks,
Mark Hollis,
Lungfish,
Bang On A Can,
The Sound,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Alison Limerick,
Skriet,
The Last Poets,
Bauhaus,
Angry Samoans,
Sugar Minott,
The Young Rascals,
Morten Harket,
Yazoo,
Stiv Bators,
Dark Day,
Mission of Burma,
MDC,
The Monochrome Set,
Minnie Riperton,
the Normal,
Marmalade,
The Fuzztones,
John Coltrane,
Kurtis Blow,
Echospace,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Cure,
Alice Coltrane,
Amon Düül II,
Roy Ayers,
Siglo XX,
Heaven 17,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Moleskins,
Model 500,
Delon & Dalcan,
Buzzcocks,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.