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 Sweden and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 X-101 to the funk 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 Brick. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders 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 spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Slave,
The Grass Roots,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Tremeloes,
Sparks,
Ituana,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sonny Sharrock,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Moby Grape,
The Sisters of Mercy,
X-101,
Rotary Connection,
T.S.O.L.,
Blancmange,
K-Klass,
Juan Atkins,
The Moody Blues,
Shoche,
Niagra,
Sun Ra,
Ronnie Foster,
Das Ding,
The Stooges,
Zapp,
Bootsy Collins,
Aural Exciters,
Simply Red,
Sixth Finger,
Technova,
Bill Near,
AZ,
One Last Wish,
Jeff Lynne,
Monks,
Marc Almond,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Martian,
The Index,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sight & Sound,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Smoke,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Smiths,
The Alarm Clocks,
Brass Construction,
Mandrill,
Stiv Bators,
Rufus Thomas,
Soft Cell,
Bronski Beat,
Smog,
Black Flag,
Sex Pistols,
Letta Mbulu,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.