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 Bahrain and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 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 Robert Görl to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minny Pops record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ash Ra Tempel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Television,
The Detroit Cobras,
Davy DMX,
Fela Kuti,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Whodini,
Johnny Clarke,
Roger Hodgson,
Dave Gahan,
D'Angelo,
Tears for Fears,
The Black Dice,
Camouflage,
Curtis Mayfield,
Los Fastidios,
The Slackers,
Jeff Mills,
Cheater Slicks,
Brothers Johnson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Glenn Branca,
The Gladiators,
Gang Starr,
Faust,
Hot Snakes,
Neu!,
Subhumans,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lakeside,
Zero Boys,
Marvin Gaye,
Grey Daturas,
Eurythmics,
Franke,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Crispian St. Peters,
Quando Quango,
U.S. Maple,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lee Hazlewood,
John Coltrane,
the Fania All-Stars,
Babytalk,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Agitation Free,
Vainqueur,
Harpers Bizarre,
Symarip,
Buzzcocks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Index,
Hashim,
Saccharine Trust,
Rekid,
Fear,
Fad Gadget,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mandrill,
David Bowie,
Brand Nubian,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.