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 Somalia and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Arab on Radar to the crunk 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 Amon Düül II. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Duran Duran record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Janne Schatter,
The Buckinghams,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Red Krayola,
Marc Almond,
Clear Light,
Japan,
Peter and Kerry,
Fad Gadget,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Kerri Chandler,
The Gories,
The Blues Magoos,
Smog,
Masters at Work,
Eric Dolphy,
Nils Olav,
The Modern Lovers,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sixth Finger,
Nick Fraelich,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Fluxion,
Monks,
Make Up,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Talk Talk,
Marine Girls,
Jesper Dahlback,
Mad Mike,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jacques Brel,
U.S. Maple,
Sex Pistols,
Byron Stingily,
Scientists,
Todd Rundgren,
David Bowie,
Excepter,
The Pop Group,
Bluetip,
Pantytec,
Nik Kershaw,
The Remains,
Chrome,
Robert Görl,
The Standells,
The Seeds,
The Selecter,
Amazonics,
Bill Near,
Black Pus,
Little Man,
Mars,
Rapeman,
Jeff Mills,
The Count Five,
Kurtis Blow,
Altered Images,
Tres Demented,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Beau Brummels,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.