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 Seychelles and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mexico City.
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 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 Cheater Slicks to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Outsiders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
The Grass Roots,
Yusef Lateef,
Ken Boothe,
Hasil Adkins,
Magazine,
Nick Fraelich,
Anthony Braxton,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nik Kershaw,
The Saints,
Shoche,
The Young Rascals,
Aloha Tigers,
Zero Boys,
The Red Krayola,
Godley & Creme,
Yaz,
Johnny Clarke,
Inner City,
The Blackbyrds,
John Lydon,
Flash Fearless,
Slave,
The Beau Brummels,
Jeff Lynne,
Pantaleimon,
Intrusion,
Simply Red,
Jeff Mills,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Von Mondo,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
James White and The Blacks,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Detroit Cobras,
JFA,
Alphaville,
Young Marble Giants,
Masters at Work,
June Days,
PIL,
Alton Ellis,
Nas,
Dave Gahan,
Toni Rubio,
Jacob Miller,
John Coltrane,
Country Teasers,
The Fugs,
Roy Ayers,
The Mummies,
This Heat,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Delon & Dalcan,
Jacques Brel,
Idris Muhammad,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Names,
The Barracudas,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.