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 Uzbekistan and from Johannesburg.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 chamberlin 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 Spoonie Gee to the techno 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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The J.B.'s record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scientists,
DNA,
Skarface,
Lower 48,
La Düsseldorf,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Offenders,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
DJ Style,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lebanon Hanover,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
T. Rex,
Lightning Bolt,
Grandmaster Flash,
Panda Bear,
Can,
Little Man,
Idris Muhammad,
Das Ding,
Wolf Eyes,
Reagan Youth,
Banda Bassotti,
Guru Guru,
Electric Prunes,
Bobby Womack,
Quadrant,
Aaron Thompson,
Donny Hathaway,
The Walker Brothers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Masters at Work,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Magma,
Kas Product,
David Bowie,
Blossom Toes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Connie Case,
Pierre Henry,
Soft Machine,
Derrick Morgan,
Roxy Music,
Derrick May,
Sexual Harrassment,
Harmonia,
Fugazi,
Soulsonic Force,
Scott Walker,
Sam Rivers,
Colin Newman,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
ABC,
Swell Maps,
Kaleidoscope,
Depeche Mode,
Laurel Aitken,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.