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 Guatemala and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 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 Bush Tetras to the punk 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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül II record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
The Victims,
AZ,
Mary Jane Girls,
This Heat,
Donald Byrd,
Magazine,
Lungfish,
The Barracudas,
Marmalade,
Andrew Hill,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Carl Craig,
Ludus,
Duran Duran,
Scion,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Cal Tjader,
Spandau Ballet,
Masters at Work,
The Searchers,
Sonny Sharrock,
Boogie Down Productions,
Cameo,
Nation of Ulysses,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Mummies,
DJ Sneak,
Amon Düül,
The Angels of Light,
The Gap Band,
Robert Hood,
Dorothy Ashby,
Connie Case,
Zapp,
Franke,
Gong,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Porter Ricks,
Index,
Jandek,
The Music Machine,
Los Fastidios,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rakim,
Kenny Larkin,
The Remains,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Black Dice,
Fluxion,
Von Mondo,
Gang Starr,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Easy Going,
Crash Course in Science,
Zero Boys,
Yaz,
Mars,
Aaron Thompson,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.