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 Djibouti and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lille.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Monolake. All the underground hits.
All The Move tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Wings,
The Five Americans,
Pantytec,
Drexciya,
Gang Starr,
DJ Sneak,
Thee Headcoats,
Nico,
Bad Manners,
Eli Mardock,
Simply Red,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Easy Going,
Stereo Dub,
Mandrill,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Residents,
FM Einheit,
Freddie Wadling,
The Moody Blues,
Fluxion,
Livin' Joy,
The Monks,
Ultimate Spinach,
Al Stewart,
Rotary Connection,
Electric Prunes,
Graham Central Station,
Black Bananas,
Dark Day,
The Star Department,
The Barracudas,
Spoonie Gee,
Todd Terry,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Blackbyrds,
Warren Ellis,
Rufus Thomas,
Lalo Schifrin,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Cramps,
Pussy Galore,
The New Christs,
Camouflage,
Nils Olav,
Thompson Twins,
Blossom Toes,
David McCallum,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Nation of Ulysses,
Suburban Knight,
The Vogues,
New Age Steppers,
the Association,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Metal Thangz,
Icehouse,
Todd Rundgren,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bauhaus,
The Slackers,
Accadde A,
Pere Ubu,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.