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 Tajikistan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 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 Roxy Music to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim 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 a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Star Department,
Cecil Taylor,
The Durutti Column,
Soulsonic Force,
Skarface,
Interpol,
Mad Mike,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Porter Ricks,
The Birthday Party,
Gang Starr,
Sonic Youth,
Dark Day,
The Pop Group,
Lightning Bolt,
Donny Hathaway,
Avey Tare,
the Bar-Kays,
Alice Coltrane,
Loose Ends,
Camberwell Now,
MC5,
Black Bananas,
Isaac Hayes,
Susan Cadogan,
Freddie Wadling,
Rhythm & Sound,
Theoretical Girls,
Stetsasonic,
Depeche Mode,
Blossom Toes,
Rod Modell,
Mantronix,
Barbara Tucker,
Dead Boys,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Organ,
Suburban Knight,
Jeff Lynne,
Fugazi,
Second Layer,
Pierre Henry,
Robert Wyatt,
June Days,
Max Romeo,
Rosa Yemen,
Drive Like Jehu,
China Crisis,
Scientists,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Underground Resistance,
Joensuu 1685,
Khruangbin,
Desert Stars,
The Index,
The Smoke,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.