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 Armenia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Radio Birdman to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All the Bar-Kays tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oblivians record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Desert Stars,
The Doors,
Talk Talk,
Morten Harket,
Joe Smooth,
Wolf Eyes,
The Fall,
EPMD,
Scrapy,
The Knickerbockers,
Essential Logic,
The Sound,
Bob Dylan,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jeff Mills,
Dead Boys,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Gabor Szabo,
The Trojans,
Ornette Coleman,
Brothers Johnson,
Michelle Simonal,
Mantronix,
Moebius,
Scan 7,
Sun Ra,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Derrick May,
The Kinks,
The Golliwogs,
The American Breed,
Arab on Radar,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Porter Ricks,
The New Christs,
DNA,
Bill Wells,
Pierre Henry,
Marvin Gaye,
Adolescents,
the Swans,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Stetsasonic,
Quando Quango,
Lower 48,
Yusef Lateef,
Gang Starr,
Slick Rick,
Trumans Water,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lakeside,
Kaleidoscope,
Flamin' Groovies,
Andrew Hill,
Pet Shop Boys,
Radiohead,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
F. McDonald,
Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson.
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.