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 Gabon and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Alison Limerick to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All Man Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Davy DMX,
The Fugs,
The Saints,
Bang On A Can,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
X-102,
Lower 48,
Dark Day,
Sight & Sound,
Fela Kuti,
Thee Headcoats,
Bobby Sherman,
Carl Craig,
Sun Ra,
Marshall Jefferson,
Stiv Bators,
Ossler,
Model 500,
the Soft Cell,
Colin Newman,
Andrew Hill,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pantytec,
Youth Brigade,
Eve St. Jones,
Moby Grape,
Cybotron,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Modern Lovers,
Don Cherry,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Gun Club,
Essential Logic,
The Sonics,
Kaleidoscope,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Robert Görl,
Aswad,
Hardrive,
H. Thieme,
Arab on Radar,
Angry Samoans,
Echospace,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Tremeloes,
Vladislav Delay,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sarah Menescal,
Jeru the Damaja,
This Heat,
Soulsonic Force,
Minutemen,
Visage,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Misunderstood,
Oblivians,
Newcleus,
Clear Light,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.