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 Monaco and from Sao Paulo.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Spandau Ballet to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Kenny Larkin. All the underground hits.
All The Fuzztones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Monks,
Boredoms,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ralphi Rosario,
Altered Images,
Ornette Coleman,
The Pretty Things,
Pantytec,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Motorama,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Durutti Column,
Derrick May,
Oneida,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Moleskins,
Black Bananas,
Con Funk Shun,
Chris & Cosey,
Subhumans,
The Doobie Brothers,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gichy Dan,
Suicide,
Massinfluence,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
cv313,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Prince Buster,
Lou Reed,
Maleditus Sound,
Goldenarms,
Cybotron,
UT,
Wings,
Slave,
L. Decosne,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Todd Rundgren,
Freddie Wadling,
Von Mondo,
The Smoke,
Jeff Mills,
Janne Schatter,
the Slits,
Blake Baxter,
Black Flag,
The Monks,
Alice Coltrane,
Rekid,
Rapeman,
The Invisible,
Junior Murvin,
Sarah Menescal,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
the Sonics,
Reagan Youth,
The Buckinghams,
Ten City,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.