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 Eritrea and from Accra.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sound. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
Gang Green,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
D'Angelo,
8 Eyed Spy,
Carl Craig,
Radiopuhelimet,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Buckinghams,
Radio Birdman,
Half Japanese,
Average White Band,
Little Man,
Fatback Band,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Pretty Things,
Throbbing Gristle,
Flipper,
The Fugs,
Jerry's Kids,
Franke,
Technova,
Man Eating Sloth,
Wally Richardson,
Swell Maps,
Wolf Eyes,
The New Christs,
Ronan,
The Busters,
Bill Wells,
B.T. Express,
DJ Style,
Main Source,
Robert Görl,
Thompson Twins,
T. Rex,
David Axelrod,
Pantaleimon,
Black Pus,
Tropical Tobacco,
The American Breed,
Sonny Sharrock,
Au Pairs,
Ralphi Rosario,
Radiohead,
Darondo,
Minor Threat,
Japan,
The Searchers,
Con Funk Shun,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Sonics,
Bauhaus,
The Gap Band,
Guru Guru,
Don Cherry,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sixth Finger,
Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys.
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.