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 Malaysia and from Accra.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Smog to the jazz 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All The Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mantronix,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Popol Vuh,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Silicon Teens,
Iggy Pop,
Mandrill,
Flamin' Groovies,
Derrick May,
Dawn Penn,
The Smiths,
Tommy Roe,
Brand Nubian,
Kas Product,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Vainqueur,
The Pop Group,
Jeff Lynne,
Amazonics,
These Immortal Souls,
Motorama,
Prince Buster,
Nas,
The Techniques,
Gang Green,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Fania All-Stars,
Derrick Morgan,
Lyres,
Cluster,
Chrome,
Avey Tare,
Moby Grape,
Sixth Finger,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jacob Miller,
Darondo,
Henry Cow,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Aaron Thompson,
Man Parrish,
Funkadelic,
La Düsseldorf,
Barry Ungar,
a-ha,
Blake Baxter,
the Slits,
Junior Murvin,
Albert Ayler,
Vladislav Delay,
the Swans,
Aural Exciters,
Oblivians,
The Sonics,
Outsiders,
Desert Stars,
Lalo Schifrin,
Radiopuhelimet,
Marine Girls,
The Monochrome Set,
The Real Kids,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.