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 Tajikistan and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 David Bowie to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All Moss Icon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tim Buckley record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
the Sonics,
The Blackbyrds,
One Last Wish,
Mo-Dettes,
The Black Dice,
Fad Gadget,
Pylon,
Ludus,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bobby Womack,
Yaz,
The Evens,
China Crisis,
Bush Tetras,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Buckinghams,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bill Wells,
LL Cool J,
John Foxx,
Eric B and Rakim,
Con Funk Shun,
Guru Guru,
Arab on Radar,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Sun Ra,
Robert Hood,
Vladislav Delay,
Gichy Dan,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Whodini,
The Fortunes,
Robert Wyatt,
B.T. Express,
Grauzone,
John Coltrane,
Anakelly,
Spandau Ballet,
Aaron Thompson,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Harpers Bizarre,
Agent Orange,
Isaac Hayes,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Tom Boy,
Von Mondo,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lower 48,
Radiopuhelimet,
Altered Images,
the Soft Cell,
Glenn Branca,
Rapeman,
the Swans,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Robert Görl,
Ronnie Foster,
Glambeats Corp.,
Mars,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.