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 Laos and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Magazine to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers Ubiquity 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Desert Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Dawn Penn,
New York Dolls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Tubeway Army,
Dorothy Ashby,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Black Moon,
James White and The Blacks,
The J.B.'s,
Jacques Brel,
The Angels of Light,
Colin Newman,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Black Dice,
The Flesh Eaters,
Graham Central Station,
Siglo XX,
Grey Daturas,
The Moody Blues,
Blancmange,
Panda Bear,
Buzzcocks,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Nico,
Alison Limerick,
Yusef Lateef,
Gil Scott Heron,
Infiniti,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sonic Youth,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pulsallama,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Franke,
Vladislav Delay,
the Association,
Jesper Dahlback,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Roy Ayers,
Fela Kuti,
Danielle Patucci,
Visage,
Swell Maps,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Susan Cadogan,
Bill Wells,
Nas,
David McCallum,
Bad Manners,
Peter & Gordon,
Rakim,
Howard Jones,
Blake Baxter,
Soft Machine,
Harry Pussy,
Skriet,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Mark Hollis,
Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown.
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.