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 Sierra Leone and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bobby Womack to the dance 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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fortunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop 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?
Bill Wells,
Magma,
Tubeway Army,
Funkadelic,
Judy Mowatt,
Spoonie Gee,
Infiniti,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Vainqueur,
Gang Starr,
Bauhaus,
Pussy Galore,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Buckinghams,
Accadde A,
The Mojo Men,
The Kinks,
Althea and Donna,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Dirtbombs,
Barbara Tucker,
Girls At Our Best!,
Shoche,
The Move,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
David McCallum,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Knickerbockers,
Symarip,
Amon Düül,
The Fortunes,
Anthony Braxton,
Procol Harum,
Technova,
Johnny Osbourne,
Robert Wyatt,
Pierre Henry,
Eric Copeland,
Neil Young,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Franke,
Erasure,
Icehouse,
This Heat,
The Black Dice,
Sight & Sound,
Fatback Band,
The Mummies,
Half Japanese,
Warsaw,
Lucky Dragons,
The Electric Prunes,
The Index,
Negative Approach,
Blossom Toes,
Liliput,
Gang Gang Dance,
David Bowie,
Harmonia,
Q65,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.