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 Guinea-Bissau and from Copenhagen.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Jacques Brel to the rock 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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Dennis Brown tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Görl 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?
Scientists,
Lyres,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Wally Richardson,
Chris & Cosey,
Pulsallama,
The Skatalites,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
the Bar-Kays,
Sister Nancy,
Black Bananas,
Todd Terry,
Dawn Penn,
Johnny Osbourne,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Harmonia,
Au Pairs,
Maleditus Sound,
Oblivians,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Michelle Simonal,
Cluster,
Drive Like Jehu,
Cybotron,
Derrick May,
Jerry's Kids,
Excepter,
Neu!,
Wings,
Con Funk Shun,
Donny Hathaway,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bobby Byrd,
The Residents,
kango's stein massive,
Crispy Ambulance,
John Foxx,
The Black Dice,
Pole,
Cecil Taylor,
The Doors,
Josef K,
Loose Ends,
Joyce Sims,
David Bowie,
MC5,
Trumans Water,
The Victims,
Minutemen,
Soft Machine,
Suburban Knight,
Brothers Johnson,
X-101,
Ohio Players,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.