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 Venezuela and from Halifax.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 harpsichord 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 Birthday Party to the rap 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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All The Evens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Rufus Thomas,
Television,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Drive Like Jehu,
DJ Sneak,
Organ,
The Angels of Light,
Piero Umiliani,
Graham Central Station,
Bang On A Can,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
John Lydon,
Gil Scott Heron,
Goldenarms,
Make Up,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Icehouse,
ABBA,
In Retrospect,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Cowsills,
Model 500,
The Stooges,
The Tremeloes,
KRS-One,
X-101,
Hashim,
The Moody Blues,
Dennis Brown,
Scion,
Stetsasonic,
Sällskapet,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Sister Nancy,
Symarip,
The Dave Clark Five,
Howard Jones,
Crime,
Ponytail,
Aloha Tigers,
Subhumans,
CMW,
Rapeman,
Moss Icon,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Soulsonic Force,
Fela Kuti,
48th St. Collective,
Theoretical Girls,
Pantaleimon,
the Germs,
Rekid,
Thompson Twins,
Ituana,
Todd Terry,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Blackbyrds,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Beau Brummels,
Erasure,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
These Immortal Souls,
Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis.
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.