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 Belgium and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Goldenarms to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Smog. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eddi Front record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Neil Young,
New Order,
Pussy Galore,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Doors,
Thompson Twins,
KRS-One,
The Skatalites,
Mantronix,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Johnny Clarke,
Siglo XX,
the Human League,
The Moody Blues,
The Slackers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Main Source,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Girls At Our Best!,
Can,
The Music Machine,
Gil Scott Heron,
Franke,
Swell Maps,
Bill Near,
Pylon,
Amon Düül,
The Invisible,
Avey Tare,
Public Enemy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Gang Starr,
Newcleus,
Al Stewart,
Malaria!,
Los Fastidios,
48th St. Collective,
Yusef Lateef,
Faraquet,
The Flesh Eaters,
Masters at Work,
Rosa Yemen,
Animal Collective,
Shoche,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Davy DMX,
Eddi Front,
Sam Rivers,
FM Einheit,
cv313,
Slave,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Zapp,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Marshall Jefferson,
Susan Cadogan,
Black Pus,
Tubeway Army,
Frankie Knuckles,
Aloha Tigers,
OOIOO,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.