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 Suriname and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 guitar 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 K-Klass to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sam Rivers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads 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?
Matthew Bourne,
Nik Kershaw,
The Gun Club,
Ronnie Foster,
Lower 48,
Funky Four + One,
F. McDonald,
Spandau Ballet,
Pussy Galore,
Fat Boys,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Pretty Things,
Severed Heads,
Crispy Ambulance,
The New Christs,
Sun City Girls,
Circle Jerks,
Robert Wyatt,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The J.B.'s,
Jacob Miller,
The Gladiators,
The Moody Blues,
Buzzcocks,
Scientists,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gang Gang Dance,
8 Eyed Spy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Fela Kuti,
Bush Tetras,
Organ,
Piero Umiliani,
Terrestrial Tones,
Susan Cadogan,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Pet Shop Boys,
Brick,
Pole,
The Human League,
Zero Boys,
ABBA,
Godley & Creme,
Ludus,
Infiniti,
Little Man,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sister Nancy,
The Golliwogs,
The Index,
Icehouse,
Gang Green,
Davy DMX,
Roxy Music,
Yazoo,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Mary Jane Girls,
Hoover,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.