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 Comoros and from Beijing.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
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 Kings Of Tomorrow 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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vladislav Delay,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Fire Engines,
Q65,
Piero Umiliani,
E-Dancer,
Amon Düül,
Sun City Girls,
Soft Machine,
The Pretty Things,
Trumans Water,
Pet Shop Boys,
Marine Girls,
Sandy B,
Erasure,
Graham Central Station,
John Cale,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Yusef Lateef,
Juan Atkins,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Invisible,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Mummies,
Agent Orange,
Morten Harket,
Au Pairs,
Tubeway Army,
Organ,
Radio Birdman,
Tim Buckley,
X-102,
The Mojo Men,
Swans,
Make Up,
Althea and Donna,
The Buckinghams,
Wasted Youth,
John Holt,
Lucky Dragons,
Man Parrish,
New York Dolls,
Bang On A Can,
The Names,
Main Source,
the Bar-Kays,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Accadde A,
Pantytec,
Sonny Sharrock,
ABBA,
The Selecter,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Quantec,
Lightning Bolt,
Mantronix,
Jerry Gold Smith,
JFA,
Magazine,
Roy Ayers,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Cowsills,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.