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 Saudi Arabia and from Bologna.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Newcleus. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
Popol Vuh,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Q and Not U,
Mr. Review,
Lower 48,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Big Daddy Kane,
Excepter,
The Alarm Clocks,
New York Dolls,
Interpol,
Heaven 17,
Silicon Teens,
Graham Central Station,
Qualms,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Yaz,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Spandau Ballet,
Rhythm & Sound,
Negative Approach,
Fluxion,
Hardrive,
10cc,
Babytalk,
Bobby Byrd,
Charles Mingus,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lakeside,
Minutemen,
Bootsy Collins,
Das Ding,
R.M.O.,
Hot Snakes,
Lungfish,
Zero Boys,
Don Cherry,
The Searchers,
Mark Hollis,
The Modern Lovers,
Marc Almond,
Main Source,
Jimmy McGriff,
Robert Hood,
Youth Brigade,
Nils Olav,
The Last Poets,
the Soft Cell,
Ludus,
Lebanon Hanover,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
FM Einheit,
Moebius,
Cal Tjader,
The Gap Band,
Amazonics,
Lalo Schifrin,
Crooked Eye,
JFA,
The Grass Roots,
Alison Limerick,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.