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 Macedonia and from Tokyo.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 snare 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 Nation of Ulysses to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fuzztones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Joey Negro,
Iggy Pop,
Black Sheep,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Kenny Larkin,
Laurel Aitken,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ronan,
X-101,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Robert Wyatt,
Freddie Wadling,
The Count Five,
Grauzone,
Surgeon,
Das Ding,
Whodini,
the Sonics,
Faraquet,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
DJ Sneak,
Fluxion,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Make Up,
Warsaw,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Moebius,
Radiohead,
Roy Ayers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Popol Vuh,
The Offenders,
The Pop Group,
Toni Rubio,
Morten Harket,
Lee Hazlewood,
Panda Bear,
Japan,
Reuben Wilson,
Joensuu 1685,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Pantaleimon,
B.T. Express,
The Monochrome Set,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ken Boothe,
Harry Pussy,
Infiniti,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Joe Smooth,
Echospace,
Little Man,
Flipper,
Boredoms,
Black Pus,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sonic Youth,
The Techniques,
Qualms,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.