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 Brazil and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 F. McDonald to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gang Green. All the underground hits.
All Dual Sessions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Stooges record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mandrill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Thee Headcoats,
Deepchord,
The Monks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Blake Baxter,
Brothers Johnson,
Zapp,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Youth Brigade,
Scientists,
Patti Smith,
The Moody Blues,
The Alarm Clocks,
Danielle Patucci,
Bobby Sherman,
Darondo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Piero Umiliani,
Lalann,
John Cale,
The New Christs,
Pulsallama,
David Bowie,
Man Parrish,
John Coltrane,
Ken Boothe,
Dawn Penn,
Anakelly,
The Black Dice,
Crooked Eye,
Average White Band,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Suicide,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Cybotron,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Tubeway Army,
Oneida,
In Retrospect,
Pierre Henry,
Dennis Brown,
DNA,
The Happenings,
Cal Tjader,
Gang Gang Dance,
Jandek,
Oblivians,
Wire,
The Fuzztones,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Marine Girls,
the Sonics,
Mad Mike,
Unrelated Segments,
Nick Fraelich,
John Lydon,
Rapeman,
Don Cherry,
Ultravox,
Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger.
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.