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 Denmark and from Taipei.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Brass Construction to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Skatalites. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
Hoover,
Pole,
Kevin Saunderson,
Cameo,
the Slits,
Bill Near,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Young Marble Giants,
This Heat,
Bill Wells,
The Busters,
The Saints,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
A Certain Ratio,
The Pop Group,
Sparks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Japan,
Severed Heads,
Sun Ra,
James White and The Blacks,
John Holt,
Y Pants,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Massinfluence,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bluetip,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Evens,
Sixth Finger,
The Cowsills,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Danielle Patucci,
Masters at Work,
The Gories,
Pylon,
Reuben Wilson,
Mary Jane Girls,
Janne Schatter,
Boz Scaggs,
Banda Bassotti,
Magazine,
Ohio Players,
Loose Ends,
Sound Behaviour,
The Raincoats,
Heaven 17,
The Motions,
Lalo Schifrin,
Donald Byrd,
Lungfish,
L. Decosne,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Vogues,
Dead Boys,
Fat Boys,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ten City, Ten City, Ten City, Ten City.
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.