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 Germany and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 spring reverb 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 Ice-T to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gang of Four,
The Count Five,
Flipper,
Reuben Wilson,
Eric Copeland,
the Human League,
Crime,
Tomorrow,
Lungfish,
Eli Mardock,
the Soft Cell,
The Barracudas,
Anthony Braxton,
Boogie Down Productions,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Tubeway Army,
Moebius,
The Index,
Soul Sonic Force,
the Swans,
Stetsasonic,
John Holt,
Marmalade,
The Smiths,
Mr. Review,
Faraquet,
Country Teasers,
Icehouse,
Gang Green,
Stiv Bators,
Johnny Clarke,
The Toasters,
Supertramp,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Marcia Griffiths,
A Certain Ratio,
Joensuu 1685,
Danielle Patucci,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
DNA,
Underground Resistance,
Mandrill,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The United States of America,
Monks,
Clear Light,
Lyres,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Slick Rick,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Idris Muhammad,
Carl Craig,
The Dirtbombs,
The Gun Club,
Junior Murvin,
The Beau Brummels,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.