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 Qatar and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Boredoms to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Moss Icon. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharoah Sanders,
Lungfish,
Bootsy Collins,
Hardrive,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Amon Düül II,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Mummies,
Panda Bear,
the Normal,
Lucky Dragons,
New Order,
Gang Green,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Nils Olav,
Aloha Tigers,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Blackbyrds,
Charles Mingus,
Can,
Masters at Work,
Brand Nubian,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Derrick Morgan,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Crispy Ambulance,
Infiniti,
Bobby Byrd,
The Dirtbombs,
Visage,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Wire,
U.S. Maple,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Fatback Band,
June of 44,
The Pretty Things,
Neu!,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
June Days,
The Flesh Eaters,
Todd Rundgren,
Gregory Isaacs,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ten City,
Bobby Hutcherson,
FM Einheit,
Dorothy Ashby,
Chrome,
The Electric Prunes,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Residents,
Pussy Galore,
Delta 5,
James White and The Blacks,
Slick Rick,
The Wake,
Boredoms,
The Selecter,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.