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 Senegal and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 organ 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 Dorothy Ashby to the grunge 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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every cv313 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Albert Ayler,
Loose Ends,
Tom Boy,
The Misunderstood,
FM Einheit,
Mr. Review,
Junior Murvin,
Crooked Eye,
The Dirtbombs,
Lebanon Hanover,
Zapp,
The Star Department,
The Cramps,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Moss Icon,
Smog,
Nation of Ulysses,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Germs,
Slick Rick,
Bootsy Collins,
Simply Red,
Adolescents,
Bronski Beat,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Essential Logic,
Cecil Taylor,
Dawn Penn,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Interpol,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fluxion,
Henry Cow,
June of 44,
Ultra Naté,
Cheater Slicks,
Niagra,
Outsiders,
The Leaves,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Mojo Men,
Letta Mbulu,
The Moleskins,
John Foxx,
Erasure,
Cybotron,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Names,
Eric Copeland,
Banda Bassotti,
Archie Shepp,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Move,
The Searchers,
Blossom Toes,
Flash Fearless,
Blake Baxter,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.