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 Nepal and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Procol Harum 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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Michelle Simonal,
Angry Samoans,
Hot Snakes,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Malaria!,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lightning Bolt,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Red Krayola,
Kevin Saunderson,
Max Romeo,
Wings,
Josef K,
The Cowsills,
Organ,
the Association,
Porter Ricks,
Leonard Cohen,
Echospace,
AZ,
The Move,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Suicide,
Talk Talk,
John Foxx,
Nas,
Yusef Lateef,
X-101,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
R.M.O.,
Brand Nubian,
DNA,
Fear,
Rakim,
The J.B.'s,
Janne Schatter,
The Sisters of Mercy,
LL Cool J,
Silicon Teens,
Reagan Youth,
Blancmange,
The Gun Club,
Robert Görl,
Lou Christie,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
ABC,
Marvin Gaye,
Newcleus,
Barrington Levy,
Charles Mingus,
Negative Approach,
The New Christs,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bang On A Can,
Jacques Brel,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
X-102,
Guru Guru,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sparks,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.