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 Belgium and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
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 Tears for Fears 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 Soul Sonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Scrapy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Joey Negro,
Simply Red,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Fortunes,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Hasil Adkins,
Eric B and Rakim,
John Cale,
B.T. Express,
Harry Pussy,
The Durutti Column,
a-ha,
Con Funk Shun,
Mars,
Scion,
Danielle Patucci,
The Monks,
Ludus,
KRS-One,
Schoolly D,
Lyres,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bang On A Can,
The Five Americans,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Leonard Cohen,
Altered Images,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Names,
The Music Machine,
John Lydon,
The Detroit Cobras,
Chris Corsano,
F. McDonald,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pantaleimon,
Bootsy Collins,
Public Image Ltd.,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tim Buckley,
The Slackers,
Harpers Bizarre,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kayak,
Cal Tjader,
Girls At Our Best!,
Minnie Riperton,
Wings,
Agent Orange,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lucky Dragons,
The Sonics,
The Real Kids,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Dave Clark Five,
Deakin,
Bronski Beat,
Curtis Mayfield,
Marcia Griffiths,
the Bar-Kays,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.