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 Swaziland and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Jacob Miller to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Nation of Ulysses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
a-ha,
The Beau Brummels,
Kevin Saunderson,
Quando Quango,
Joensuu 1685,
The Fall,
Don Cherry,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bush Tetras,
Max Romeo,
Maleditus Sound,
Marmalade,
Scion,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sonny Sharrock,
Thompson Twins,
Country Teasers,
Lindisfarne,
Boredoms,
Banda Bassotti,
The Stooges,
Negative Approach,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Tubeway Army,
Mary Jane Girls,
Matthew Halsall,
Chris & Cosey,
Matthew Bourne,
A Certain Ratio,
The Happenings,
Khruangbin,
Loose Ends,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sex Pistols,
The Sound,
Pagans,
Oneida,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Mr. Review,
The Cure,
Sunsets and Hearts,
the Swans,
Sugar Minott,
Shoche,
Barbara Tucker,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Chris Corsano,
Mad Mike,
Mandrill,
The Smiths,
Subhumans,
Royal Trux,
Marshall Jefferson,
Q65,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Warsaw,
The Black Dice,
The Pretty Things,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.