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 Marshall Islands and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Radio Birdman to the electroclash 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 Yaz. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Delta 5,
Buzzcocks,
48th St. Collective,
The Skatalites,
Pagans,
Agent Orange,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bobby Sherman,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Letta Mbulu,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Sällskapet,
The Trojans,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pet Shop Boys,
Aloha Tigers,
Drexciya,
The Misunderstood,
PIL,
Robert Hood,
John Cale,
The Associates,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Tears for Fears,
Slick Rick,
KRS-One,
Ultravox,
These Immortal Souls,
Vainqueur,
the Human League,
Dennis Brown,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Anakelly,
Morten Harket,
Gang of Four,
Patti Smith,
A Certain Ratio,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ultimate Spinach,
Marc Almond,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Talk Talk,
Glambeats Corp.,
Brand Nubian,
The Golliwogs,
the Normal,
Country Teasers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Althea and Donna,
The Sound,
The Remains,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Don Cherry,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Loose Ends,
Jeru the Damaja,
Aural Exciters,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.