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 Honduras and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Eddi Front to the grunge 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam. All the underground hits.
All The Invisible tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soulsonic Force 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 guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Gap Band,
Yaz,
Yellowson,
L. Decosne,
Warren Ellis,
The Dirtbombs,
The New Christs,
The Toasters,
Shoche,
Graham Central Station,
Y Pants,
The Fire Engines,
The Gories,
Buzzcocks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Schoolly D,
Gichy Dan,
Newcleus,
Sun Ra,
Jeff Mills,
Sugar Minott,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Franke,
Camouflage,
Silicon Teens,
Al Stewart,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
K-Klass,
FM Einheit,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Amon Düül II,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Busters,
Ten City,
Gong,
Aural Exciters,
B.T. Express,
Faraquet,
Soul II Soul,
Minnie Riperton,
The Gun Club,
Ralphi Rosario,
Stockholm Monsters,
Barrington Levy,
Eurythmics,
Susan Cadogan,
Bobby Womack,
Mars,
DJ Style,
Fugazi,
Crooked Eye,
Cameo,
8 Eyed Spy,
Marine Girls,
Hardrive,
The Fugs,
Howard Jones,
Wolf Eyes,
Leonard Cohen,
Organ,
Sandy B,
Motorama,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.