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 Somalia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 synthesizer 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 Ultra Naté to the disco 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 Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All The Raincoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pole record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
Gang Gang Dance,
Half Japanese,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
World's Most,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gang Green,
Sarah Menescal,
Cecil Taylor,
Unwound,
D'Angelo,
Arcadia,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Kinks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Loose Ends,
Iggy Pop,
The Gories,
The Stooges,
Black Pus,
The Moody Blues,
Bang On A Can,
Minnie Riperton,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tres Demented,
the Bar-Kays,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
John Lydon,
Steve Hackett,
Skaos,
Barbara Tucker,
Khruangbin,
Bootsy Collins,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Royal Trux,
Bauhaus,
Surgeon,
Porter Ricks,
Pantytec,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Slave,
Lou Reed,
Siglo XX,
Nico,
The Pretty Things,
The Names,
Minny Pops,
Archie Shepp,
Alice Coltrane,
Matthew Bourne,
Funky Four + One,
Black Flag,
Moebius,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Soft Cell,
The Gun Club,
Icehouse,
Ossler,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Junior Murvin,
ABBA,
Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman.
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.