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 Bahrain and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and New York.
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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the rock 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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
Rapeman,
Jandek,
Groovy Waters,
Cameo,
Monolake,
Model 500,
Fatback Band,
Outsiders,
Sister Nancy,
Cluster,
Connie Case,
Skriet,
Moss Icon,
The Martian,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gichy Dan,
Supertramp,
Angry Samoans,
Aaron Thompson,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Zeros,
The Misunderstood,
Laurel Aitken,
Tomorrow,
Aloha Tigers,
The Fugs,
Andrew Hill,
Sixth Finger,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
48th St. Collective,
John Coltrane,
Sarah Menescal,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Angels of Light,
Ronan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Swell Maps,
Freddie Wadling,
Lou Christie,
Sam Rivers,
John Holt,
Livin' Joy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
the Soft Cell,
Kevin Saunderson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Aural Exciters,
Smog,
Fear,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nation of Ulysses,
In Retrospect,
Public Enemy,
The Shadows of Knight,
Vladislav Delay,
Eric B and Rakim,
Banda Bassotti,
Tubeway Army,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu.
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.