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 Tuvalu and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 marimba 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 Dave Gahan to the rock 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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deepchord record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
Grandmaster Flash,
ABC,
Don Cherry,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Sonics,
The Blackbyrds,
Loose Ends,
Ultra Naté,
Inner City,
Tres Demented,
Lower 48,
D'Angelo,
The Cure,
F. McDonald,
Kurtis Blow,
Das Ding,
Sonic Youth,
Flipper,
Guru Guru,
Model 500,
The Real Kids,
The J.B.'s,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Aswad,
The Techniques,
Idris Muhammad,
Franke,
John Coltrane,
Harpers Bizarre,
Letta Mbulu,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Todd Rundgren,
Bronski Beat,
Banda Bassotti,
Mars,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ultravox,
Outsiders,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rites of Spring,
The Residents,
Organ,
Cheater Slicks,
Albert Ayler,
Isaac Hayes,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Susan Cadogan,
Youth Brigade,
Black Flag,
Marvin Gaye,
Godley & Creme,
Lyres,
Brick,
Kevin Saunderson,
Warsaw,
Toni Rubio,
June Days,
La Düsseldorf,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.