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 Germany and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Severed Heads to the techno 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 Intrusion. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bluetip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Teasers,
Ornette Coleman,
Brothers Johnson,
The Gladiators,
E-Dancer,
The Names,
Albert Ayler,
Soft Cell,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Misunderstood,
Sex Pistols,
U.S. Maple,
Marvin Gaye,
Banda Bassotti,
The Smiths,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lee Hazlewood,
One Last Wish,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Brick,
a-ha,
Scrapy,
Hot Snakes,
Terry Callier,
Newcleus,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
48th St. Collective,
Television Personalities,
The Dead C,
The Slits,
The Moody Blues,
Isaac Hayes,
Harry Pussy,
Morten Harket,
Grey Daturas,
Howard Jones,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Q65,
Clear Light,
Henry Cow,
David Axelrod,
Blossom Toes,
Joey Negro,
Rakim,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Warsaw,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Anakelly,
Underground Resistance,
Ossler,
Eddi Front,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Quantec,
the Normal,
Dennis Brown,
Maleditus Sound,
the Swans,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.