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 Fiji and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 theremin 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 Vladislav Delay 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 The Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader 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?
X-101,
The Skatalites,
Harry Pussy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jesper Dahlback,
Jacques Brel,
Negative Approach,
The United States of America,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pere Ubu,
DJ Style,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Buzzcocks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Offenders,
Wolf Eyes,
Lucky Dragons,
Guru Guru,
Unwound,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Michelle Simonal,
Index,
The Real Kids,
Das Ding,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
T. Rex,
Liliput,
Sun Ra,
Kerri Chandler,
Country Teasers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sällskapet,
Circle Jerks,
The Grass Roots,
Piero Umiliani,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Prince Buster,
Surgeon,
Throbbing Gristle,
Aaron Thompson,
Electric Prunes,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Normal,
Minny Pops,
the Swans,
Roxy Music,
Black Pus,
James White and The Blacks,
The Martian,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Public Enemy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bush Tetras,
Pagans,
Roxette,
Don Cherry,
Arab on Radar,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jawbox,
Radio Birdman,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.