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 France and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Joyce Sims to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Gang of Four,
Marshall Jefferson,
Deepchord,
Quadrant,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Fortunes,
Kurtis Blow,
48th St. Collective,
Neu!,
X-102,
Scratch Acid,
Graham Central Station,
Oblivians,
The Golliwogs,
Max Romeo,
Tubeway Army,
The Martian,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Stiv Bators,
Mo-Dettes,
ABBA,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ten City,
Ossler,
The Fall,
Absolute Body Control,
The Misunderstood,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Johnny Clarke,
David Axelrod,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Panda Bear,
Metal Thangz,
Index,
Mars,
Bill Wells,
Ituana,
Lucky Dragons,
The Tremeloes,
H. Thieme,
One Last Wish,
Organ,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Tommy Roe,
Desert Stars,
The Smoke,
The Grass Roots,
The Selecter,
Whodini,
Rakim,
Sex Pistols,
Swans,
Bobby Sherman,
Pantytec,
The Sonics,
PIL,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.