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 Slovakia and from Jakarta.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 linndrum 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shoche record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
Brass Construction,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Monks,
Eurythmics,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Danielle Patucci,
Susan Cadogan,
David McCallum,
Duran Duran,
Youth Brigade,
James White and The Blacks,
Talk Talk,
The Fortunes,
T.S.O.L.,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Don Cherry,
The Dirtbombs,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The New Christs,
David Axelrod,
Hardrive,
Severed Heads,
Spandau Ballet,
Index,
Neil Young,
Alphaville,
The Walker Brothers,
Rakim,
Wasted Youth,
Deadbeat,
The Star Department,
Negative Approach,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Alarm Clocks,
Maurizio,
The Slackers,
Juan Atkins,
Pylon,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lucky Dragons,
Bill Near,
Radio Birdman,
Anakelly,
Delon & Dalcan,
Moebius,
Sarah Menescal,
Kas Product,
Circle Jerks,
Mantronix,
The Searchers,
Soul Sonic Force,
Roxy Music,
Johnny Clarke,
Skarface,
Scan 7,
Althea and Donna,
L. Decosne,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Crooked Eye,
Scott Walker,
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.