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 Cape Verde and from Paris.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 chamberlin 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 Malaria! to the grunge 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Sun City Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Smog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jimmy McGriff record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arab on Radar,
Lower 48,
Hashim,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sight & Sound,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Arcadia,
Malaria!,
Skarface,
The Index,
Blossom Toes,
Bizarre Inc.,
Roxette,
Janne Schatter,
Model 500,
Hoover,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Television,
Fat Boys,
The Neon Judgement,
Jeff Lynne,
the Normal,
Pulsallama,
The Selecter,
Delta 5,
Fugazi,
The Detroit Cobras,
New York Dolls,
Smog,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
CMW,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Last Poets,
Barbara Tucker,
Throbbing Gristle,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
DNA,
Los Fastidios,
Dawn Penn,
Bootsy Collins,
Curtis Mayfield,
the Human League,
Sixth Finger,
Underground Resistance,
Youth Brigade,
Gang of Four,
Angry Samoans,
Mantronix,
Theoretical Girls,
Radiohead,
Icehouse,
Echospace,
Rod Modell,
Popol Vuh,
Schoolly D,
Agent Orange,
Subhumans,
Q65, Q65, Q65, Q65.
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.