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 Papua New Guinea and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Holger Czukay 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 Roxette to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All It's A Beautiful Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scrapy 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
D'Angelo,
Be Bop Deluxe,
One Last Wish,
The American Breed,
Idris Muhammad,
The Detroit Cobras,
Nik Kershaw,
Urselle,
the Soft Cell,
Chris & Cosey,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Interpol,
New Age Steppers,
Brothers Johnson,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Faust,
The Velvet Underground,
Donny Hathaway,
Vladislav Delay,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Anthony Braxton,
The Happenings,
Outsiders,
Stockholm Monsters,
Laurel Aitken,
Mission of Burma,
Das Ding,
Scion,
Rites of Spring,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Eric Dolphy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Robert Wyatt,
The Real Kids,
The Standells,
The Misunderstood,
the Sonics,
The Smiths,
Stetsasonic,
Tubeway Army,
Monolake,
CMW,
Radio Birdman,
Ken Boothe,
The Sonics,
The Neon Judgement,
Johnny Osbourne,
DJ Sneak,
A Certain Ratio,
Fluxion,
Gabor Szabo,
Johnny Clarke,
Henry Cow,
the Slits,
Procol Harum,
R.M.O.,
The Beau Brummels,
Susan Cadogan,
Curtis Mayfield,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.