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 Rwanda and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Kinks to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Nas. All the underground hits.
All Rekid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gregory Isaacs,
Toni Rubio,
Pantytec,
John Coltrane,
The Misunderstood,
Sonic Youth,
Glambeats Corp.,
Roxette,
The Fortunes,
Skriet,
The Move,
The Standells,
Jawbox,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Deadbeat,
Grandmaster Flash,
Soft Cell,
The United States of America,
Skaos,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Zeros,
The Star Department,
The Modern Lovers,
Ituana,
The Cramps,
Bush Tetras,
The Happenings,
Oblivians,
Lungfish,
Lucky Dragons,
The J.B.'s,
Skarface,
Neu!,
Matthew Bourne,
The Motions,
Eric B and Rakim,
Brothers Johnson,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Junior Murvin,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Velvet Underground,
Easy Going,
Unwound,
Agent Orange,
The Searchers,
Magma,
Janne Schatter,
Jimmy McGriff,
Minutemen,
The Remains,
Slick Rick,
Mandrill,
The Martian,
FM Einheit,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Deepchord,
Sällskapet,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
H. Thieme,
Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson.
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.